


How two simple letters can change your life

by Piano_Lover



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piano_Lover/pseuds/Piano_Lover
Summary: Legolas finds two letters written by his now dead mother and embarks on a strange journey.





	1. Prologue: Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to writing fanfictions, so please forgive me for any mistakes. Now, first things first:  
the disclaimer:  
This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> Secondly, I'll warn you right away - this work is not beta-read and English is not my mother tongue.
> 
> And thirdly, I don't know how often I can post, but it won't be regularly...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll like it.

**Letter 1:**  
Dear Legolas,

When you read this, I am already dead. Please don’t grieve too much about me; trust that where I am now is a better place. I will always love you.

I am sure you have already packed your few things to move out of John’s flat – if not, please do so. He is an awful man and would only hurt you if you stayed with him. You are now legally an adult, so you could stay on your own, but I know this would be very difficult for you. This is why I want you to go to a man called Thranduil Greenwood, an old acquaintance of mine who lives in the US. You may have heard of him – if not, that’s no problem, but he will be able to help you. Take the money I saved for this journey (I know I promised to go to the doctor’s with it, but I figured it would be of more use to you) and go to him (the address is below). Give him the second letter in this envelope, but please don’t read it – it’s for his eyes alone.

I know flying to the US will seem like a waste of time and money to you, but please do it. It’s my last wish. You should know that I am very proud of the young man you have become – I couldn’t have asked for a better son, and I am sorry for all the pain I have subjected you to. I have always loved you and I will always love you.

Yours forever,  
your mother Lindariel

P.S.: Thranduil’s address: 111 Beverly Park Court, Beverly Hills, CA

**Letter 2:**  
Dear Thranduil,

My name is Lindariel. You may not remember it, but we met years ago in a tiny bar in London where I was working at the time. You came there with a few friends of yours, Elrond and Glorfindel, if I am not mistaken, to celebrate the end of your studies. You came there and started chatting with me – and I was smitten by you. Soon, I was in your arms, swaying to the music…

I think you can imagine how the night ended, even if you probably cannot remember it, given that you were very drunk. But for me, it was the best night ever. Until a few months later (you were already gone I do not know where) when I discovered that I was pregnant. Yes, Thranduil, this may shock you, but you have a son; Legolas is his name, and he has brought you this letter. If you don’t believe me, find a way to do a paternity test – Elrond studied medicine, didn’t he, so he should know someone who can do that or he can do it himself.

When you read this, I am dead, but I still have to ask something of you: please take care of my, of our son. He deserves so much better than I could ever have given him. He deserves a father.

Please fulfil this last wish of mine, and I will forever be grateful.

Thank you,  
Lindariel


	2. To the US

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.

Legolas was staring at the letter in his hands. He couldn’t believe the words he saw right in front of his eyes, couldn’t believe that it was his mother who had written them. Couldn’t believe that his mother had come out of her drunken and drugged stupor long enough to concoct such a plan and to write these letters. Yet here he had the proof, right there in his hands…

He had read the letter again and again, until he knew it by heart. Only then did he check that the other letter was in the envelope and put both in his rucksack, which was already packed with the few belongings he had. Just like his mother had foreseen.

With a sigh, he shouldered the rucksack and took a last look at the tiny room, which was more like a broom cupboard really, in which he had slept for the last eight years. Nothing held him here; this place reeked of bad memories, not to mention of alcohol, drugs and worse things.

He was glad that John, the awful man to whom the flat in London belonged, wasn’t at home. He was probably lying in a pub drunk as hell. This was fine for him because it gave him the chance to sneak out before John could keep him here.

Legolas quietly left the room without looking back and entered the kitchen. He felt a pang in his heart when he saw the dead flowers in a vase; his mother had put them there in her rare moments of clarity. But then, obviously these moments hadn’t been as rare as she’d wanted everyone to believe…

“What are you doing?” drawled a booming voice from the door. Legolas sighed. John was back in his flat. So much for his luck.

“I’m leaving,” he said flatly and wanted to shoulder past the burly man.

Said man grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. “You are certainly not leaving, you little rat! Your mother still had to pay off her debt to me when she died, so you will have to do this!”

Legolas nearly gagged at the alcohol he smelled in the man’s breath. “Listen, John. I’m leaving and I’m never coming back. And don’t tell me something about my mother’s debt – she paid the money to you years ago!!” Actually, Legolas had done that for her, but he didn’t need to know that. “She could have left, but you kept her here by giving her drugs even though you knew she was trying to overcome her addiction!!” Legolas was shouting now, all the pent-up rage leaving him in a burst. “It was your fault she never got better; it was your fault she died!!”

For a moment, John stared at him, speechless. Never had Legolas dared to speak to him like that, for fear of what he would do to his mother.  
A fist came flying towards Legolas’ face, but he had been waiting for that. With reflexes honed from years of doing parkour, he ducked, grabbed the man’s shin and sent him sprawling to the floor. Then he bolted from the flat as fast as he could.

***

An hour later, Legolas was sitting in an underground train in the direction of Heathrow Airport. He kept his rucksack very close to him, afraid someone might try to steal his money. It was more than he had ever had in his entire life…

His mother and he had been very poor, which was also the reason why he had hardly ever taken the underground before. Therefore, he looked around with big eyes, at all the people tapping away at their fancy smartphones, beating their head slightly to the music coming from their earphones, chatting with friends… Those people lived in a whole world, a world where they had enough money, a family, a nice flat or even a house, a pet… It was a world he didn’t know. _But maybe I’ll get to know it soon enough_, he thought quietly. _After all, this Thranduil lives in Beverly Hills._ Even Legolas with his limited education knew that this meant the guy must be awfully rich. And even if he was just a servant for one of those awfully rich people, he surely earned more money in a month than Legolas had with him right now.

A voice announced the last station. He was at Heathrow Airport. With a determined face, he put on his rucksack and followed the other people in the direction of the main hall. There were loads of people in this hall, almost all of them pushing towards a certain space. No, a certain person, Legolas realised. He was quite tall and could look over the crowd – in the middle of it, surrounded by dozens of reporters brandishing their microphones and shouting questions, was a very pretty woman. She had fiery red hair that went to her hips and full lips. Her hips swayed tantalisingly as she walked.

Legolas tore his gaze away from the woman. She was a celebrity, of that there was no doubt. He was pretty sure that she was an actress, but he didn’t know more. Not even her name, but that didn’t interest him anyway. He was here to book a flight to the US after all, not to stare at an actress, however famous she might be.

He spotted a lonely ticked agent who tried hard not to seem too fascinated by the presence of the red-haired beauty at the airport. Legolas quickly approached him and asked for the cheapest flight to Los Angeles he could get.

“Any baggage?” the agent asked in a bored voice.

“Only this.” Legolas lifted up his rucksack.

The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He only typed something into his computer, then named a price and how long it would take him to get from London to Los Angeles with the cheapest flight.

Legolas stared at the man. With the flight he had suggested, he would have to change five times, and it would take him more than a day to get there. “Is there no other connection with fewer stops?”

The man, quite disgruntled now, typed into his computer again. “Here, one with three stops. But it costs more.” He showed Legolas the price.  
The 18-year-old sighed. This flight was indeed more expensive, but it also saved him a lot of time, which meant that it saved him from having to buy too much food, which in turn saved some money again. “I’ll take it.”

“Do you need a return flight?”

Legolas hesitated, then firmly said, “No, thank you.”

***

It was his first ever flight, and he felt quite giddy when the plane took off. He had had the luck to get a seat next to a window, so he spent the next hour or so staring out through the glass. This was really amazing!

Then a meal was served. He ate the warm parts and the salad, but kept the rest so he could snack on it later on. After the meal, he continued staring out of the window for a while, until he decided to play a bit with the console that was attached to the back of the seat in front of him. He discovered that he could even watch movies there for free. Since he had never had the money to buy DVDs, let alone to go to the cinema, this was a new experience for him as well. He randomly chose a movie, put the headphones into his ears and started watching.

And before he knew it, the flight was over, and he was in North America.

***

Of course, the next three flights were not as enjoyable as they didn’t serve any meals and there were no movies, but he enjoyed it nevertheless, simply because it meant he was leaving his old, miserable life behind. He would have wished to have his mother by his side, of course, but some things were obviously not meant to be.

When he finally arrived at L.A. International Airport, he could barely keep his eyes open – the jetlag was making him slightly woozy as well. He blinked a few times and squinted at the immigration officer who was checking his visa. Back in London, he had said to the ticket agent that he would be visiting friends and that he would book a return flight from there. Apparently that had sufficed. However, he wasn’t sure whether this immigration officer thought the same.

“How long do you plan on staying in the US, Mister La- Laeron?”

Legolas had to stop himself from smirking despite his tiredness. People stumbling over his last name always made him want to chuckle. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I don’t have a return flight.”

“And what is the purpose of your journey here?”

“I’m visiting friends” Legolas said firmly.

The man scrutinised him once more, then finally stamped his visa and gave it back to him with the words, “Don’t forget to extend your visa if you want to stay longer than three weeks.”

Legolas beamed at him. “Thank you. Good night to you, Mister.” The man only grunted.


	3. A Walk Through the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the third chapter. We'll finally meet someone... Hope you like it.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.

Legolas walked out the front door of the airport after having changed his pounds to dollars. In the light of a street lamp, he consulted the map of Los Angeles he had bought. It was not very far to Beverly Hills – at least not for his standards. He was used to walking a long way.

He knew he didn’t have enough money for a night in a hotel, so he decided to just start walking in the direction of Beverly Hills. The night air would clear his mind and chase away his tiredness. Besides, he didn’t want to sleep on the streets, here, in a foreign country where he didn’t know the safe spots.

He breathed deeply and started walking, consulting his map every few minutes. The cool night air really did wonders to his body, which had been screaming for sleep at the airport, but felt quite good now.

Legolas studied the houses closely, already marking the spots that seemed as if they were suitable for parkour. If this Thranduil guy couldn’t or didn’t want to help him, he would have to make a living somehow. Doing parkour in front of other people had always brought him some money back in London, and he was sure it would do so here as well.

His stomach growled loudly, so he opened the last package of crackers that he still had from his flight. Munching on them, he continued walking through the nearly deserted streets of Los Angeles. Suddenly, he heard someone yelping and shrieking.

Legolas wrinkled his brows and stuffed his map and the crackers into the pocket of his pants, prepared to run away at the slightest sign of danger. Then he crept closer to the sound, which seemed to come from a nearby side street.

He looked around the corner and cocked his head sideways at the strange sight he beheld: there was a burly man jumping up and down, howling and yelping, scratching at every inch of exposed skin he could find. His clothes were quite torn already. 

Legolas heard someone stifle a giggle close by and looked up at the roof of the house he was standing beside to see two pairs of legs dangling above him. He stiffened and worried his lower lip, pondering what to do. The street that the yelling man was in was the street he wanted to take to get to Beverly Hills. He could of course take another one, but then the two troublemakers would surely see him, and who knew what they would do to him?

The decision was taken from him, however, when the two “troublemakers” jumped from the roof without looking down. One nearly landed on him; as a result, both the “troublemaker” and Legolas fell tumbling to the ground. Legolas hit his head hard on the pavement and saw stars; his left hand was wedged under his assailant and throbbed painfully.

“Elladan, you oaf, why didn’t you look down before jumping!?”

“Don’t call me oaf, Elrohir, you didn’t look yourself!”

The weight from his sprained hand was lifted, and Legolas sighed in relief before standing up himself. He stared at two, nearly identical young men, probably his age. They had the same ebony black hair, tied in a messy bun at the back of their neck, the same grey eyes, the same sheepish grin on their lips. One, however, – Legolas assumed it had to be Elladan – had a split lip.

Legolas frowned, looking at his right hand – a drop of blood was running down the back of it. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, at the same time as Elladan.

Elrohir laughed. “Quite the pair already, you two! Did the great oaf hurt you?” he then asked in a serious tone.

“It’s nothing. I just hit my head a bit.” Legolas used his left hand to rub at the throbbing spot on his forehead and hissed in pain. Ah yes, the hand…

“And your hand is sprained too, I see… I’m Elrohir, by the way, and the great oaf beside me is my brother Elladan.” The young man stretched out his hand, ignoring the punch on the shoulder he got from his brother.

Legolas shook it. “I’m Legolas.” He shook Elladan’s hand, too.

“Look, I’m really sorry I fell on you. If you want, you can accompany us to our home. Our father can have a look at your head and hand then,” Elladan offered, still wearing that sheepish grin. “He’s a doctor,” Elrohir added.

Legolas bit his lip. “Thanks for the offer, but I can’t.” He didn’t have the money to pay a doctor anyway. However, he did enjoy the twins’ company. They were unlike any other people he had met before. So he nodded into the street, where the man, a little further down now, was still scratching at his skin and howling. “What did you do to him?”

Elrohir puffed with laughter. “Itching powder.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He’s a jerk, that’s why,” Elladan said darkly. “Always runs after the children, frightening them. Once I saw him hit his wife.”

“Then he deserves it.” Legolas watched the man jump up and down and imagined John in his stead. That made him grin even wider.

“But don’t change the topic,” Elrohir suddenly said, recovered from his fit of laughter. “Why can’t you go with us? You should really let our father check that bump on your head. It’s bleeding a bit…”

Legolas sighed, the grin wiped from his face in an instant. “Look, thanks for your help, but I’m really fine. I’ve survived worse without a doctor…” And that was true. He’d never had the money for a doctor, and when he did, he used it to buy medicine for his mother. “Perhaps I should go now. I’ve kept you long enough…”

“You don’t keep us, but let us at least walk you home, ok?” Elladan offered, peering at him, his split lip still bleeding slightly. “After all, it’s my fault that you are in this state, and we don’t want to find you unconscious on the street tomorrow…” Elrohir nodded his agreement.

Okay, they were officially getting on his nerves now, but Legolas kept his temper in check. They were only meaning well, after all. “Look, I really appreciate your offer, but no. You can’t accompany me.”

“Because you’ve nowhere to go, have you?” Elrohir whispered, studying his baggy, slightly cut jeans, the worn t-shirt, the shabby rucksack where Legolas kept his belongings and which still had the yellow ribbon on it, indicating that it had been his hand baggage. Legolas bit his lip and said nothing.

“You are from Britain, aren’t you?” Elladan asked. “Why are you here?”

Legolas sighed in defeat. “My mother told me to come here. And before you ask: no, I won’t tell you why. It’s private. And yes, I have nowhere to go, but I will find a place. It’s only a few hours until daybreak.”

The twins shared a look. “Come with us,” Elrohir offered once again. “Nobody will ask questions; we often have strangers at home.”

“Our father has a small clinic in his house. That’s why,” Elladan explained when he noticed Legolas’s confused expression.

Legolas bit his lip again, looked at the two identical faces, then finally nodded his assent.

***

The trio sneaked past the man still scratching at his skin, holding back puffs of laughter every now and then. The twins’ carefree attitude was refreshing, and Legolas soon felt as if he had known the twins for years as they were talking very much.

They continued walking for about half an hour until they finally reached Beverly Hills. Legolas recognised it only because the houses were big, very, very big, because they had huge gardens and because almost all of them were surrounded by some kind of fence or wall. “You live in Beverly Hills?!” he blurted out.

“Yeah, sure, didn’t we mention?” Elladan asked back.

Legolas shook his head in bewilderment. “Are you, like, super rich or something?”

“Well, this is our house.” Elrohir gestured to the right of Legolas. His jaw dropped.

Through the bars of an iron gate that was twice as tall as him, Legolas was looking at something that couldn’t be called a house. It was a mansion, a villa, anything but a house. It was just huge! And it was surrounded by a beautiful garden that was well tended to and obviously the pride of someone.

While Legolas was staring at the “house” in bewilderment, Elrohir searched for his keys to open the gate. He didn’t find them.

“Do you have your keys?” he hissed at Elladan, who shook his head.

“We must have left them at home.”


	4. The Peredhels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> So, here's the fourth chapter. It's a bit longer than the other three, but I hope you like it. :)

“And how should we get in without waking Ada and Nana? You know they like sleeping in. And we are not supposed to go out during the night anyway, at least not to do the things we did tonight.” Elrohir spoke in a low voice so Legolas wouldn’t notice anything of their dilemma, but it was too late.

“What’s the matter? Did you lose your keys?” he asked, turning around to face the twins again.

“No, we… we must have forgotten them at home,” Elladan admitted sheepishly and smiled in an embarrassed way, only to hiss in pain when that stretched his split lip.

“Both of you?” Legolas raised an eyebrow.

“Well… yeah…” Elrohir looked just as sheepish as his brother.

“Phone your parents then.” Legolas shrugged and turned back to look at the huge house again. “I’m sure you have phones, at least.” In contrast to him, that was, but he didn’t say that. He only had a very old, battered phone with keys, but it didn’t work anyway because the charger was broken, and he hadn’t had time to somehow get a new one before he left for America.

“Well, they like to sleep in, and we actually shouldn’t be out in the night…”

“… harassing people like that idiot back there,” Elrohir finished the sentence of his brother. They had that habit, Legolas had noticed. At first, it had been difficult to follow them sometimes, but now he found it quite amusing.

Now he cocked his head. “They will know anyway that you were out when they see me, won’t they? So it’s either you phone them, or I climb over the gate, and you tell me how to open it from the inside. If there is no alarm system, that is,” he added as an afterthought.

The twins stared at him. “You can do that?” They asked in unison, sounding disbelieving.

Legolas eyed the gate. Even though it was quite tall and obviously meant to keep out intruders, it had some ornamental elements, so climbing it shouldn’t be a problem, even with his sprained wrist. “Yeah,” he answered.

Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, then shook their heads. “No, let’s rather phone Ada. We’ll say we have a patient, so he won’t be that cross with us because we rang him from his precious sleep.”

Legolas shrugged. “Whatever you wish.” He did wonder, though, why they kept calling their father “Ada”. He would have to ask them later.

Elrohir pulled out his phone, a thing with a huge screen, and called his father. Legolas heard a groan from the other side and suppressed a grin when he saw Elrohir flinch.

“Yes, Ada, it’s us.” – “No, but could you let us in, please?” – “Yes, we forgot our keys. Could you let us in now, please? We have a patient here…” – “No, it’s not us. Well, Elladan has a split lip, but it’s someone else actually who needs your care.” – “Okay, thanks.”

He pocketed his phone again, and all three looked expectantly at the gate, which opened on silent hinges a few moments later. “The moment I said ‘patient’, he was wide awake,” Elrohir told his brother.

“Typical of him,” he answered. The three friends – Legolas hoped they were really his friends – strode down the alley which led to the grand house. The garden behind the wall was well tended to and had lots of patches with strange herbs. He breathed deeply. It didn’t smell as if they were in the city, but rather in… well, a herb garden. He liked it immediately.

Legolas then looked at the front door, which opened to spill out light onto the alley. He swallowed as he saw a man with long, dark hair who looked much like the twins being kissed by a sleepy woman with golden hair and fair skin. Then the woman walked back into the house; the man remained in the doorway.

“Are you sure I’m welcome?” Legolas hissed to the twins. “I don’t want to intrude on anything…”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Elladan reassured him quickly.

“Thanks for opening the gate, Ada,” Elrohir called and quickly patted his father on the shoulder “Why did you wake Nana, though?”

“Well, the phone was next to our bed. How could she not have heard it ringing?” The twin’s father rolled his eyes. “And besides, she insisted on making breakfast for you troublemakers… and for our guest,” he added, his eyes falling on Legolas after having greeted Elladan, too.

Legolas bit his lip. “Hello, sir. My name is Legolas Laeron.” He held out his right hand, and the man shook it, studying him. “Your sons said I could come here, but if you want me to go…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“My name is Elrond Peredhel. And of course you can stay here. Come in.” Elrond stepped away from the doorway and led Legolas in, who looked in awe at the classy interior of the house.

“Thank you, sir.”

“No worries. What happened to your head?”

Legolas hesitated. Elrond glanced left, through a doorway into a spacious kitchen where the twins were just greeting their mother and apologising for having woken her. He saw Elladan’s split lip and wrinkled his brows.

“You didn’t get into a fight with my sons, did you?”

Legolas’s eyes widened. “No, sir, I didn’t. Elladan and I just bumped into each other really hard…” He thought it best not to mention that Elladan had dropped on him from a roof – surely that wouldn’t go too well with Elrond, and he didn’t want the twins to be punished.

“Alright, then come on in.” Elrond led Legolas through a door to their right. It opened up to a spacious room lined with white hospital beds. They then went through another door at the side of the room to get to a smaller one, which had a desk, a chair and a table with a thin mattress on top of it.

“Sit down on the table,” Elrond muttered. Legolas did as he’d been told, putting his rucksack near the door. While Elrond disinfected his head wound and dressed it with a simple plaster, he didn’t show any discomfort at all, even though it stung quite a lot. On the streets of London, you learned soon enough not to show any weakness.

“Are you hurt somewhere else?”

He hesitated. He really didn’t want to bother the man any more than necessary. Already he had been so kind to him. Elrond, however, knew that kind of hesitancy. It reminded him of someone he knew, someone who also never admitted being hurt, emotionally or physically.

“Tell me. I won’t bite.”

“Look, sir… I… I am grateful for you help, but as I’ve already told your sons… I can’t pay for all that.” He pulled his battered, old leather purse from the pocket of his pants and showed Elrond a meagre fifty-dollar note. “That is all I have left, and… I don’t want to be a burden…”

Elrond looked at the youth in front of him, who looked so lost, and sighed softly. “Listen, Legolas. Helping people is my job, yes, but it’s also my vocation. And if someone comes to my door in need of help I would never turn him away, be he rich or poor. And besides, my sons somehow seem to be responsible for your injuries, so I feel obliged to treat you. For free”, he added swiftly as Legolas was about to hand him the fifty dollars. “Keep that. You need it more than I do. And now tell me where it hurts.”

Legolas studied the man. He did seem to mean well, so he hesitantly stretched out his left arm. “I think I sprained my wrist when I fell…”

Elrond bent his hand this way and that way. Legolas bit his lip, but said nothing – that, however, was enough for Elrond to know that he hurt. He rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of the boy and thought once again that he reminded him of a certain someone.

“Yes, you are right. You sprained it. A simple bandage to stabilise your wrist will do…” Elrond fetched some bandage from his cupboard, then set to bind the youth’s wrist in a specific pattern.

Legolas watched intently, trying to memorise the pattern so he could he repeat it should he ever sprain his wrist again when practising his parkour moves. God knew he’d had that kind of injury often enough already!

“Why do you make a specific pattern? Why not just go round and round?” Legolas blurted out before he could stop himself.

Elrond tilted his head and smiled softly, his mind whirring. Could it be that this young one was interested in healing? If that was the case, he absolutely had to make sure that he got the chance to learn it. There were far too few competent healers as it was… “The pattern ensures that your wrist is being stabilised without cutting the flow of blood to your hand,” he explained, finishing with the bandage.

Legolas nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll remember that. Thank you.”

Just then Elrohir burst into the room. “Ada, Nana says breakfast is ready. For you, too, Legolas,” he added with a smile.

Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but Elrond cut him off and lead him out of the room. “No protests, Legolas, you are our guest now as long as you like.” Legolas just let himself be steered into the huge kitchen, quite overwhelmed by the kindness he was being shown.

In the kitchen, Elrond introduced him to his wife, Celebrían. Legolas stared at the tall woman with her golden hair and soft, silvery eyes. She looked very much like that singer everyone had been talking about back in London. He had even seen posters advertising an upcoming concert of hers in the British capital city. But surely it couldn’t be her, could it?

All that went through his head as he awkwardly thanked Celebrían for welcoming him in her home and for making breakfast… and everything really.

She smiled brightly at him. “No worry. It is always a pleasure to see the twins hanging out with someone normal for a change.” At that, the twins protested loudly, but she waved them off good-naturedly. “Please, sit down and eat. You must be famished after your flight.”

Just at that, Legolas’s stomach growled loudly. He gave an embarrassed grin and sat down at the large table laden with more food than he’d sometimes had in a week. After having thanked Elrond and Celebrían once again for their hospitality, Legolas tucked in. He savoured every bite of the tasty food while listening to the conversation around him, which was quite lively considering the early hour.

Inevitably of course, the conversation turned to his reasons for being here, but just as Elladan and Elrohir had realised while they’d been walking home with Legolas, now their parents noticed that he really didn’t want to talk about that. Legolas was grateful that they just let it drop.

Eventually, he ended up eating far more than he had originally intended to. He glanced around sheepishly, but nobody seemed to mind. Instead, Elrond turned to his twin sons, a quite serious look on his face. “And now you two will tell me what you were up to tonight…”

Elladan swallowed nervously. Legolas chose that moment to unsuccessfully try to stifle a huge yawn. The twins understood the cue and jumped up. “We’ll show Legolas to the guest room.” With that, they steered Legolas out of the room, Elrohir shouldering his backpack on the way.

Legolas heard Elrond and Celebrían muttering as they made their way up the stairs onto the first floor. “I can also go-,” he started, but was cut off by Elrohir. “Nah, just follow us. They want you to stay anyway; Nana’s already prepared a room for you…”

Legolas smiled slightly. He just couldn’t believe his luck. And it became even better when the twins showed him into the spacious guest room. “Rest as long as you want. You can use the shower in the bathroom, towels and everything are inside.”

“Thank you very much once again. I really don’t know how I deserve your kindness.” Legolas was at a loss for more words to express his gratitude.

“Don’t worry. Ada and Nana both like doting on someone, so it’s really no problem for them. And besides, you saved us from our Ada’s reprimands more than once tonight, and that counts for something too, believe me.” Elrohir smiled a bit ruefully before they turned to go. “We’ll see you later today. Or tomorrow. Whenever you wake up.”

“See you,” Legolas answered, then closed the door. He sagged against it for a moment, suddenly tired beyond measure. After a moment, he had collected himself. Then he took a very quick shower, and he was so tired that he couldn’t even marvel at the modern apparatuses and the very fluffy towels. He fell into the huge bed with the towel still wrapped around his waist, and sleep found him immediately.


	5. Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some Thranduil...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter again, but I wanted to introduce Thranduil to you readers before Legolas finally meets him in the next chapter! Enjoy!

Legolas woke up, feeling as relaxed as he hadn’t done in a long time. He kept his eyes closed and savoured the feeling of soft, silken bedsheets under him. Silken bedsheets?

He finally opened his eyes in confusion and looked around. He was lying in a huge bed, a slightly wet towel slung across his waist. The room had beautiful wooden wardrobes, which he wouldn’t have been able to fill even if he had wanted to because he just didn’t have so many clothes. A door in the wall to his left, which was slightly ajar, led to the bathroom, which was just as spacious, if Legolas remembered correctly.

He got up, held the towel with one hand and walked to the window to look out. He saw a huge garden and a wrought-iron gate. A gate… Oh yes! He was in the US, in the house of the Peredhel family! The events of the last few days came back to him in a rush.

He smiled a bit woefully at the thought of his mother, but his attention was quickly diverted as he turned his back on the window and went to the bathroom to take a proper shower this time. He washed his hair thoroughly with the sweet-smelling shampoo that stood in a shelf and just enjoyed the hot water pouring down on him before he turned it to icy cold. This certainly woke him up for good.

Legolas stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a fresh towel. He wrinkled his brows and looked at his dirty clothes. He finally felt clean once again, so he didn’t really want to slip into them. After a moment’s thinking, he snatched up the clothes, filled some water into the sink, added shampoo and dropped them in.

Then he strode to the door and opened it cautiously. The glance out of the window had told him that it was probably shortly before midnight, and he didn’t want to wake anyone up. The house seemed very quiet. In the hallway, he noticed that something was different from in the morning. He looked up at the ceiling and saw the cameras, which were expertly hidden for someone who didn’t have much practice at spotting such cameras. Legolas, however, had grown up in London, where there was a CCTV camera at almost corner. That, combined with the fact that he’d always been dangerously close to breaking the law, had taught him how to spot surveillance cameras at once.

He saw a light on the camera blink and knew it was turned on. Well, the Peredhels obviously didn’t trust him, but that was fine with him. He understood it. After all, he was a complete stranger. He waved up at the camera, as he had done so many times in London, then crept down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find a note pinned to the table. It read:

_Dear Legolas,_  
Just in case you wake up in the middle of the night and we are not here – we are at a dinner party hosted by a neighbour, so don’t worry. If you are hungry, help yourself to any food you like. You may also use the clothes stored in the wardrobes in the guest room you slept in.  
If you want to leave, call this number 1 666 778 from the phone in the house, and one of us will come to let you out. However, we’d be glad to have you here for another day.  
Greetings,  
Celebrían 

Legolas smiled and shook his head softly. How had he managed to meet people who seemed to be the nicest people in town? Normally, luck wasn’t with him in that respect.

He turned the note around and saw that there was a postscript, clearly written by another hand:

_Legolas, whatever you do, do not leave this house. We’d never forgive you if you just stole away during the night. E and E_

At this, Legolas had to chuckle.

***

Thranduil stood leaning against the doorframe, idly twirling his wine glass in his hand and watching the woman he loved doing the washing-up. Calandiel had waist-length auburn hair, sensual lips (which he couldn’t see at the moment) and warm brown eyes that always reminded him of chocolate.

“I know you are standing there watching me,” she said with a slight smile and turned around.

He walked over to her, tilted up her chin and gave her a searing kiss. “I like watching you…” he murmured against her lips.

“I know you do, love. But you are hosting a dinner party right now, so go back into the garden and entertain your guests while I finish this here.” She bit down softly on his lower lip and smiled suggestively. “And later on, when everyone is gone, you can finally give me the proper welcome I deserve…”

She had been away shooting a film in England and had only returned the day before. She’d been so tired that she had fallen asleep on the seat of his car. “A very good idea,” he said, grinning. “I could help you with the washing-up, though…”

“Don’t bother, Thran,” said a voice from the door. He turned around. Celebrían, Elrond’s wife and Calandiel’s best friend, stood in the doorway. “I’ll help her, and you go out and talk to Elrond. You haven’t been to see him in ages.”

Thranduil looked at Calandiel, who laughed and shooed him away. He bowed sarcastically. “I leave before the might of you women crushes me.” He saw Calandiel roll her eyes at Celebrían and left, still grinning at the prospect of tonight.

He went out the backdoor, which opened to his huge, beautiful garden. A few people, namely Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Erestor, were still eating. Elrond sat beside and watched his sons with an amused expression on his face while Galadriel and Celeborn were dancing to the soft music playing out of the outdoor speakers.

While Thranduil walked over to where Elrond was sitting, he thought about how few they were tonight. The three brothers Haldir, Rúmil and Orophin were on vacation, probably scouting for pretty European girls, and Calandiel’s daughter Tauriel (whom Thranduil considered to be his stepdaughter, even though he and Calandiel weren’t married) was off somewhere with her abominable boyfriend Kilí (which was good because he couldn’t stand the short, bearded youngster at all). Who else was missing? Oh yes, Elrond’s daughter and her boyfriend Aragorn, who was Elrond’s adoptive son at the same time, as well as Mithrandir and Radagast, who never seemed to have a proper excuse for not attending dinner parties, by whomever they were being hosted.

Thranduil sat down next to Elrond. “Did you enjoy the food, mellon?”

Elrond looked at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “You know I can never say no to anything you cook, Thranduil, so why do you ask?”

“It’s because he likes to hear you praise his cooking, that’s why!” called Glorfindel in a merry voice before standing up and asking a blushing Erestor to dance.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine; Elrond laughed.

“Tell me, where are Aragorn and Arwen?” Thranduil asked Elrond, still watching Glorfindel and Erestor dancing.

“They’re off on vacation,” answered Elrond. “I think it’s getting serious now. He’s taken her to Venice,” he added, shaking his head softly.

“Ah, so he followed my advice after all,” Thranduil said in a satisfied way.

Elrond looked at him, eyebrow raised. “You told him to take her to Venice?”

“Well, I told him to take her somewhere special. And what would be more special to lovebirds than the city of love?” Thranduil smirked.

Elrond chuckled. “You are unbelievable, mellon!”

“You too, mellon. What did you do to make your sons be so uncharacteristically quiet? They are not like themselves this evening…” Thranduil motioned over to where Elladan and Elrohir were sitting, apparently in the middle of a serious conversation. “I hope they are not planning anything involving this garden or my house.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

Elrond chuckled. “Oh no, they are not planning anything of the sort. They are probably just debating how to sneak out again tomorrow night… as if I didn’t notice it every time. They are not exactly the silent sort, you know?”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to laugh. “Oh yes, I can imagine!” At that moment, the twins stood up from the table and sauntered over to their father and to Thranduil.

“Thanks, Thran, for dinner. It was delicious, as always!” Elrohir said enthusiastically.

“You’re welcome, young ones,” Thranduil replied with a smile.

“Yeah, it was very good,” Elladan agreed, “but we really have to go now.”

Thranduil wrinkled his impressive eyebrows. “You are leaving already? Why, whatever happened to you?” Normally, the twins were the first to arrive at and the last to leave a dinner party like the one Thranduil was hosting right now.

Elladan shrugged noncommittally. “Oh, it’s nothing. We just want to make sure Legolas is alright. Bye Thran, Ada.”

Elrond nodded thoughtfully and watched his sons wave to the other guests and leave the garden through the backdoor of Thranduil’s mansion.

And now Thranduil was really interested. “Who is this Legolas? Did you adopt another small child?”

Elrond shrugged in exactly the same way that Elladan had just moments before. When he saw something like this, Thranduil always wondered what it was like to have children…

“No, he’s not an adoptive child. Elladan and Elrohir took him with them when they came home in the middle of last night. Apparently, Elladan ran into him, and that’s why he as a split lip. At least, that’s what they told me. I don’t quite believe this story, but you know how they are…”

“And what did you do with the boy?”

“I bound his sprained wrist and treated his head injury. Now he probably still sleeps in one of our guest rooms.”

“Where does he come from?” Thranduil took another gulp of wine.

“From Britain. But why this sudden interest?”

Now it was Thranduil’s turn to shrug. “Well, in your house happen more interesting things than in mine. And you know I’ve always been inquisitive…”

“Those ‘interesting things’ will happen in your house as well once you have children.” Elrond gave him a piercing look. “You know, it’s not too late, mellon.”


	6. Delivering the Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> Thanks to all those who've left kudos! :)
> 
> So, finally on to the exciting part of the story. Legolas meets Thranduil for the first time...

Elladan and Elrohir found Legolas eating some muesli and drinking tea at the kitchen table, dressed in a grey shirt and black pants, which he had found in the cupboard in the guest room. The pants were a bit short for him; the shirt, on the other hand, hung loosely off his thin frame, making him look younger and smaller than he actually was.

“Hi,” he said, smiling up at them. “Thanks for letting me stay and giving me clothes and food and everything. I really don’t know how I deserve this…”

Elladan shrugged. “No worries. I think Nana just likes you. And you turned up at the right time too… Estel doesn’t really need doting on anymore, so I guess she relishes having someone else here…”

Elrohir grinned at this statement.

“Who’s Estel?” Legolas asked, sounding confused.

“Well, his name’s Aragorn actually. Our parents adopted him when he was just a baby, and he grew up with us. He’s around your age…” Elrohir explained, sitting down at the table, too.

“Ah, so he’s the one you’re holding on that photo?” Legolas pointed at a photo pinned to the fridge, which showed two identical-looking boys with long black hair holding another, younger boy and tickling him.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Elladan answered. “And the girl on the photo next to it,” he added before Legolas could open his mouth to ask, “is our sister Arwen. She and Estel are in Venice right now…”

Legolas looked at the photo the twin had indicated. Arwen looked exactly like her mother Celebrían, except that her hair, like the twin’s, was jet-black instead of golden. “They seem very nice.” He got up and put the dishes he had used in the dishwasher after having rinsed them off very quickly.

“Enough of our family now,” Elrohir announced, jumping up. “Wanna play some video games?”

***

The three spent the rest of the night playing video games and doing other stuff Legolas had never done before. He had so much fun that he even forgot that the twins were complete strangers to him. Even when Elrond and Celebrían finally came home from the dinner party at three o’clock, Legolas just imitated his new friends and waved cheerily at them before turning back to the TV screen to watch Elrohir crash his racing car into a lamp post.

At ten, the family congregated for a late breakfast (in Legolas’s case, his second), and the blonde finally decided that he could trust them enough to tell them whom he was searching for.

“Umm, Mr Peredhel?” Elrond looked up. “Do you know a Mr Thranduil Greenwood? He should live somewhere in the vicinity…”

Legolas saw all four Peredhels exchange quick looks of surprise before Elrond answered. “Certainly we know him, Legolas. It was him, in fact, who threw the dinner party yesterday… What do you want with him?”

Legolas hesitated, then decided to plough on. “I was told to give him a letter.”

“And you couldn’t just send it to him?”

He shook his head. “My- someone told me to give it to him personally … Can you tell me where he lives, please? This is important for me…”

“Sure,” said Elladan immediately. “It’s not exactly a secret, anyway…”

“Yeah, with all the publicity he’s getting, I’m surprised you don’t know where he lives,” Elrohir added thoughtfully.

Legolas stared at him. Publicity? What kind of man was that Thranduil Greenwood? He decided to ignore this question for the moment – there were more pressing matters to attend to. “Could we go today?”

Elrond nodded after sharing a quick look with his wife. “Elladan and Elrohir can lead you over, but it may be better to wait just another hour or so. After all, it did get quite late yesterday…”

“Oh, yes,” Celebrían said, her smile turning into a smirk. “And judging by the looks Thran was giving Calandiel all evening, they didn’t go to sleep when we were finally away…”

The twins and Elrond laughed, and Legolas squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

***

An hour later, Elrond had finished bandaging his sprained wrist anew and exchanging the plaster on his head wound, and Legolas, still in his borrowed clothes which the Peredhels had insisted that he keep, was standing in the doorway to the house, trying to say goodbye to Elrond and Celebrían. They were having none of it, though.

“I doubt that this is really goodbye. We will see each other again before long,” Elrond said, sounding as if he knew it would come as he said.

Legolas wrinkled his brows. “Well, thank you very much for your hospitality and generosity and… well, for everything. I don’t know how I can ever repay you, but… if there’s anything I can do, just name it,” he offered.

Celebrían smiled brightly and shook her head. “There is nothing, really, dear Legolas. Just know that you are always welcome here… And make sure you visit when Estel is here. I’m sure you would get along perfectly well.”

Legolas smiled back at her; he just couldn’t help himself, her smile was infectious. “I will, Mrs Peredhel… Thank you for everything.” He also looked at Elrond, then turned and joined the twins.

“Thran’s place is not far away. Just ten minutes on foot,” Elladan said as the wrought-iron gate closed behind them. They set off at a languid pace, enjoying the sun on their faces. Legolas had his rucksack over his shoulder, the letter he had to deliver in an inside pocket of his light jacket. Nervousness made him quiet. He would meet the man his mother had said would help him in a short time. What did the letter say that would make the man help him? And, more importantly, who was the man? Was he friendly? How would he react to Legolas?

“Hey, look, Dan, is that Tauriel?” Elrohir’s voice shook Legolas out of his reverie.

“Yeah, it is. Hey, Tauriel!” Elladan called, smiling brightly.

Legolas looked in the same direction as the twins and felt his jaw drop. Thoughts of the man he didn’t know and the letter he had to deliver were wiped from his mind as he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had auburn hair with slight curls, bright green eyes, sensual lips and hips that swayed tantalisingly as she walked towards them.

“Hey, Elladan, Elrohir!” she called back. Her voice was pure honey to Legolas’s ears. He had never heard a more mesmerising sound before.

“How are you doing, Tauriel? You were with your boyfriend yesterday? We missed you at the dinner party…” Elladan said. The word “boyfriend” brought Legolas back to his senses. Of course, this vision of perfection had a boyfriend. How could it be any different?

“Yeah, I was with Kilí. And who is your friend?” Tauriel looked Legolas up and down, an eyebrow arched.

Legolas swallowed. “I’m Legolas.” He held out his hand, which she shook. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are all Brits so formal?” she asked with a laugh in her voice. “I’m Tauriel.”

Legolas nodded, then looked at the ground, embarrassed.

“Tauriel, Legolas has something to give to Thran. Could you let him in?” Elladan asked the redhead.

“Yeah, sure. Come on, Brit.” She grinned, then strode off in the direction she had come from.

Legolas quickly turned to face the twins. “Hey, thanks for everything, ok? If ever you need anything…” He felt compelled to make the same offer to the twins. They had been more than friendly.

“Don’t worry, Legolas. We’ll see each other again,” Elrohir said. Elladan nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’m sure of it. Oh, if Thran chucks you out of his house, you’re welcome to come over again.”

Legolas’s eyes widened. “Is that likely to happen?”

The twins were vague. “You never know with Thran…” “He’s known for having quite a temper…”

“Coming, Brit?” Tauriel had turned around and was waiting for him.

“Well, bye then. And thanks,” Legolas said once again, then rushed after Tauriel, feeling for the letter in his pocket as he went.

He noticed that Tauriel studied him while they walked. Her gaze came to rest on the plaster on his forehead, then flicked down to his bandaged wrist. “What happened to you, anyway?”

“Elladan happened,” Legolas replied, hoping that would explain everything. Evidently, it did because Tauriel burst out laughing.

“He’s such a great oaf, sometimes!”

Legolas grinned. “Yeah, Elrohir said so, too.”

They stopped before a large wooden gate, set in a high wall beside which the twins and Legolas had already been walking for about five minutes before Tauriel joined them. In the wood of the gate, huge antlers had been engraved. Legolas studied the engraving while Tauriel tapped in a code on the keypad beside the gate and had her fingerprint scanned. The keypad beeped once, then the two wings of the gate opened.

“Are we in a park?” Legolas blurted out as he saw what lay behind the wall and the gate.

Tauriel chuckled. “Well, you could call it a park, I assume, but this is where Thran lives. The house is just behind that grove of trees.” She pointed at a cluster of ancient-looking trees as they walked down the driveway.

Legolas stared around, mesmerised by all the green around him. He had thought that Elrond’s garden had been large and hosted many different sorts of plants, but this was beyond comparison: trees, flowers, soft, springy grass beside the driveway, even a little stream that wound its way through the bushes. “It’s amazing,” he whispered.

Tauriel laughed again, and Legolas felt embarrassed as he hurried after her. They rounded the cluster of trees, and the house came into view. Only that it was not a house. It was not even a villa. Not a mansion. It was like a palace. An extremely modern palace that dwarfed Elrond’s house by far.

“That’s where you live?” Legolas asked in disbelief.

Tauriel nodded nonchalantly, her long red hair flowing in the slight breeze. “For nearly seven years, yeah.”

“So you didn’t grow up here?” Legolas tried not to gape too much at the huge thing in front of him. He felt that John’s flat in London could have fitted into it at least a hundred times.

“Nope. I spent my first years in New York. That’s where my mother met Thran. We moved in here after they’d been seeing each other for a few months or so. I told her he would ditch her soon, but she didn’t listen. And apparently, this one time she was right about a man, and I wasn’t…” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, whatever. Wait here, I’ll get Thran for you.”

She fished out a key from her pocket and opened the front door. It closed with a snap behind her, and Legolas was left alone. He reached inside his jacket and drew out the letter; he found that his hands were trembling slightly. Why? What should happen? Everybody had been nice to him so far, so why should it be any different now? He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Then he heard footsteps approach. A second later, the door was opened. “Yes?” asked a voice in an indifferent tone.

Legolas looked up nervously, and his eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he had thought that he had seen himself. But upon closer inspection, the man – he assumed it must be Mr Greenwood – was revealed to be slightly taller him, with broader shoulders and longer hair. Also his eyes were a stormy grey, whereas Legolas’s were bright blue.

“Umm, yes… Mr Greenwood?” he asked timidly.

The man nodded curtly, but made no other movement though Legolas saw his eyes take in the state of his jacket, his shoes and his patched rucksack.

“Umm, well, I am Legolas Laeron, and my… someone told me to give you this…” He held out the letter with a trembling hand.

The man arched an eyebrow imperiously as he unfolded the piece of paper which had his name and address on the outside. “And who told you to give this to me?”

Legolas swallowed. “My mother. Lindariel Laeron.” He didn’t see any sign of recognition on the man’s face.

And indeed: “I don’t know any-“, the man began, but then he stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes on the letter. Legolas saw his lips form words, but he had never been good at lip-reading, so he still didn’t know what his mother’s letter said.

The man looked from the letter to him, then back again. _It’s shocked him,_ Legolas thought as he saw the man’s eyes widen slightly.

Then, without any warning, the man slammed the door in his face, and Legolas was again left alone on the front steps, staring at the door behind which his mother had said someone lived who could help him.


	7. Glorfindel Tries to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil deals with the letter... at least, he tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> So, finally the next chapter. I'm sorry I didn't post anything for such a long time, but I'm quite busy writing my Bachelor's thesis and only now found some time to finish the chapter. I hope you like it. :)

Thranduil stared at the letter in his hands in shock. In the back of his mind, he realised he probably shouldn’t have slammed the door on the boy, but that didn’t really matter to him right now. All that mattered were the words on the little piece of paper in front of his eyes.

_…you have a son._

Those were the only words that had registered with him. He stared hard at them, willing them to fade away into nothingness. When they didn’t, he even closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again hesitantly. The words were still there.

He crumpled the paper in his right hand and stumbled to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of wine, which he gulped down in one go. He was grateful that Calandiel was still asleep as she would have scolded him for drinking wine at this time of the day – it wasn’t even midday yet. But he needed wine right now, so he poured himself a second glass.

He drank this one more slowly and smoothed out the paper again as he did so. Then a wonderful realisation hit him. This was a hoax! A clever hoax designed to unbalance him, maybe organised by the media hoping for a scandal or by his opponents hoping that he would lose interest in business. They had even paid an actor that looked a bit like him to play the part of the son… The boy was convincing, he had to give him that, but Thranduil would never fall for that. Never!

Determined to view the whole thing as a scheme, he decided to read the other parts of the letter which had, until now, eluded him. He could actually remember the night this Lindariel-person (if she even existed) was referring to. And he had been there with Elrond and Glorfindel, this was right too. But he couldn’t remember the girl at all… that made it obvious that it was a hoax, right? Unless… if he’d really been very drunk that night…

He had to make sure this was a hoax. He had to ask Elrond or Glorfindel if what this letter said about their party in the pub that night was true. He thought of Elrond first, but then it hit him that Elrond had mentioned this Legolas boy yesterday at his dinner party. He had said something about his sons having taken him to their home… Could Elrond have orchestrated this? His comment shortly after the twins had gone seemed to confirm his theory: _Those ‘interesting things’ will happen in your house as well once you have children._ But why should Elrond do this?

Thranduil frowned and downed his third glass of wine. He would dwell on who had orchestrated this hoax later on. First of all, he had to confirm that it was, indeed, a scheme. As he didn’t want to ask Elrond, who was clearly involved in this story, he called Glorfindel.

“Wazzup? ‘S time already?” his golden-haired friend asked sleepily, sounding as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Through the phone, Thranduil heard someone huff beside Glorfindel and turn around on a bed. Ah, so Erestor and Glorfindel had spent another night together. Normally, this would have been the cue for him to start teasing his friend, but right now he had different priorities.

“Glorfindel, I need your help. Can you come over? Now? And alone?” He hated how desperate his voice sounded.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then- “Coming.”

***

Glorfindel was worried. Very worried even. _He’s never sounded so desperate before. I’ve never even heard him ask for help before!_ Glorfindel thought as he jogged up the street towards Thranduil’s enormous house.

He arrived at the wooden gate and punched in his access code before having his fingerprint scanned. He always thought these security measures to be stupid and overly paranoid, but Thranduil insisted on them. And he was as thick-headed as a rhinoceros when it came to things like that.

The gate opened for him, and he sprinted up the driveway, rounding the cluster of trees shielding the house from view. He stopped short, blinking at the sight in front of him. Was that actually Thranduil sitting on the front steps of his own house and staring into nothingness?

_No_, Glorfindel realised as he finally walked closer, _that’s not Thran._ But it was someone who looked extremely like him. The person’s hair was the same shade of white-blonde as Thranduil’s, and he looked to be about the same height. Then the person looked up at the sound of him approaching, and Glorfindel had to stop again. The resemblance was really striking.

“Who are you?” he blurted out at the same time as the youth in front of him voiced the same question.

“Legolas. Legolas Laeron,” the youth answered as he stood up, then looked at him expectantly, obviously waiting for an answer.

“Glorfindel Goldenflower.” He held out his hand, and the youth shook it tentatively.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Laeron?” Glorfindel asked next. The youth seemed startled at being addressed such.

“Umm…” He shifted his feet nervously on the ground. Glorfindel noticed an old, patched rucksack lying behind the boy. “I was told to… umm… to give Mr. Greenwood a letter…”

Glorfindel cocked his head. Who would want the boy, who, by the sound of his voice, came from Britain, to fly all the way to L.A. to deliver a letter? They could just have posted it, couldn’t they? “I suppose you did that right now. Why are you still here?”

The boy bit his lip. “I… was also told that Mr. Greenwood would help me…”

Now Glorfindel was even more confused. Why should Thran help a complete stranger? “Just- just wait here, okay?”

The boy nodded forlornly, sat down on the steps again and watched as Glorfindel inserted his key in the lock, turned it around and entered. Glorfindel closed the door behind him and advanced to the kitchen from where he could hear the clinking of glasses. He stopped in the doorway.

“Really, Thran? Wine at this time of the day? That should be too early even for you.” Glorfindel felt his grin fading as Thranduil looked up at him. His friend looked… panicky. There was no other word to describe his expression. What could it be that frightened Thranduil so much that he let it show, that he even called for help?

Glorfindel shook himself and walked to the table. “What happened, Thran?”

Thranduil pushed a piece of paper towards him. “Tell me that this isn’t true. That it’s a hoax.”

“Is this the letter that the boy-,” he began, but Thranduil cut across him impatiently. “Just read it.” So he did as he was told. His eyes widened as his gaze fell on the word “son”. He looked at Thranduil, then back at the letter to finish reading it.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” Thranduil demanded, again sounding desperate.

“Thranduil, I…,” Glorfindel began hesitantly. “I’m afraid I can’t…”

***

Thranduil looked at Glorfindel. Stared at him. And didn’t say a word.

“Thran, did you hear what I said?”

He averted his gaze and looked at the wine glass in his hand. He shrugged and downed it in one go. “Yes, I heard you quite well,” he said coldly. So Glorfindel was in on this… He wondered who had had the idea…

Glorfindel looked taken aback at his tone. “Thran, what-?” But Thranduil interrupted him, still in that same icy voice. “Whose idea was it? Who of you decided to play this shameful hoax on me?”

“What are you talking about, Thran?” Glorfindel looked really worried now. _As he should be_, Thranduil thought as he was really angry now.

“That should be obvious, shouldn’t it? Or has losing against me in swordplay so many times addled your brain?” A tiny part of Thranduil was sorry for having said that, but this part was quickly quelled by his overwhelming anger.

Glorfindel shook his head and sighed. “Okay, Thran, I know you don’t mean this. Let’s just-“ Thranduil made to grab the bottle of wine on the table, but Glorfindel was faster. Thranduil glowered at him. “You don’t need any more wine, Thran. It’s enough now.”

His friend sounded stern. Thranduil couldn’t take that tone being used on him – he jumped up in a rage. “How dare you order me around in my own house?!”

“And how dare you talk to me like that?! You are supposed to be my friend! Come to your senses!” And then Glorfindel did something Thranduil would never have expected, which was why he wasn’t fast enough to duck: he slapped him, hard. Thranduil was thrown back into his chair and only barely managed to hold on to the table to prevent it from toppling over.

***

Glorfindel’s eyes widened, and he rushed to Thranduil’s side. He hadn’t meant to hit him that hard, but he’d thought a good thump on the head would clear his wine-induced rage. “Thran, are you alright?”

Thranduil, looking bewildered now, turned his head to look at him. “Tell me it’s a hoax. Tell me it isn’t true.”

Glorfindel sighed again. “Thranduil, I can only tell you the following: if it really is a hoax, it’s not been designed by either Elrond or me. Nor another of our friends…”

“But then, who…?” Thranduil sounded desperate again, and suddenly Glorfindel wasn’t sure whether he preferred the desperate, almost scared version or the angry, cold Thranduil he had seen earlier.

“First of all, we’ve got to find out if it even is a hoax,” Glorfindel said gently.

“How do you want to find that out if we don’t know who planned it?” Thranduil asked miserably as Glorfindel walked to the sink and came back with a glass of water, which he forced into Thranduil’s hand.

“That’s easy, Thranduil. Have you looked at the boy? He’s been injured recently, and judging by the bandage on his hand, he’s been to Elrond’s for treatment. His head injury looks like it’s been bleeding. As far as I know Elrond, that means he’s got a blood sample of the boy and is probably just analysing it. You know what that means, Thran, do you?”

Thranduil drank from the glass of water, looking forlorn and saying nothing.

“You can do a paternity test, Thran. Elrond has the boy’s blood, and we’ll visit him now, so he can take a sample of yours. And in a few days, you’ll know whether he is your son or not.”

At these words, Thranduil looked even more horrified than before. “But what if he really is my son? What should I do then?”


	8. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Tauriel's mother Calandiel and an unexpected discovery...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> Finally, a new chapter! Thanks to all of you who have left kudos on this work; that means a lot to me! :)

Legolas waited and waited. He even contemplated going back to the Peredhels, but he didn’t feel like asking them for a place to stay. It felt too much like begging, and he would not do that. He’d had his share of begging in London, so if he could help it, he would avoid it here in the US. So he waited, for this didn’t seem like begging to him as his mother had definitely said the man in this wonderful house could help him…

At last, the front door opened again. He jumped up as Mr Greenwood and Mr Goldenflower came out. The first didn’t even look at him and quickly left in the direction of the gate, his back stiff; the latter, however, addressed him a brief, apologetic smile. “You can go in, Mr Laeron. I’ve told Tauriel that you are still here…”

“Thank you. What about…?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Mr Greenwood.

Mr Goldenflower wrinkled his brows. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.” With that, he hurried after Mr Greenwood, and soon the two were out of sight.

Legolas squared his shoulders, picked up his rucksack and entered the huge house. “Hello?” he called uncertainly as he closed the door behind him.

“Down the corridor and through the third door on your left, Brit,” came Tauriel’s voice. “Oh, and leave your shoes with the others in the room right next to you. Thran hates it when someone walks on his precious floor with their shoes on!” Tauriel sounded as if she found that ridiculous.

Legolas did as he was told, marvelling at the fact that the man apparently really had a room only used for keeping shoes. Then he padded on silent feet down the corridor and turned left at the third door. He entered a spacious kitchen, which dwarfed the one in Elrond’s house by far. Everything gleamed as if it had just been cleaned – well, everything except the table where Tauriel was sitting, apparently munching on some leftover from yesterday’s dinner party.

“Come, sit down and don’t stand awkwardly in the doorway.” Tauriel gestured at the seat next to hers. “Have some food, if you want. It’s cold but still delicious. Thran cooked it.”

Legolas frowned as he pulled a plate towards himself. “Mr Greenwood cooks? Really?” He hadn’t seemed the type of man to do that.

Tauriel nodded vigorously as Legolas took a bite and flavour exploded on his tongue. His eyes widened. “Yeah, I know. He’s a damn good cook. Way better than my Nana,” Tauriel sniggered.

“I heard that,” came a sleepy voice from the doorway. Legolas looked up from his plate… and froze in his chair. There, in the doorway, stood a woman who resembled Tauriel in almost every detail (almost as much as he himself resembled Mr Greenwood. Not that Legolas would ever admit that to himself as it entailed too many unpleasant consequences and questions). The woman was perhaps a bit shorter than Tauriel, but her hair was longer and her face a bit rounder.

And also, Legolas realised with a jolt, he had seen the woman before, but he didn’t remember where. He opened his mouth to say something when Tauriel cut across him in an exasperated voice. “Could you please stop staring at each other? Yes, Nana, Legolas looks like a nicer copy of Thran, and yes, Brit, my mum is a famous actress. Done gawking now?”

Tauriel’s mother and Legolas both shot the redhead flustered looks. Then Legolas hurried to introduce himself. “Hello, I’m Legolas Laeron, Ms… Mrs Greenwood?” He wasn’t sure whether she was actually married to the man, but it seemed quite likely.

“It’s nice to meet you, Legolas. My name is Calandiel Rowanier.” They shook hands. “I’m not married to Thranduil-“

“Thank the Valar,” Tauriel interjected, rolling her eyes. “It’s bad enough seeing them when they are in public together. I don’t need a wedding on top of that…”

Ms Rowanier shot Tauriel an annoyed look. “Well, be that as it may… what brings you here, Legolas? Celebrían told me a bit about you yesterday, but she was quite vague…”

As Ms Rowanier evidently was a friend of Celebrían, Legolas decided it couldn’t hurt to tell her why he had come. So he told her about the letter (but he refrained from mentioning that it was from his mother) and how he had come here to give it to Mr Greenwood.

Ms Rowanier cocked her head. “And where is Thranduil now?”

“He went with Mr Goldenflower to…” He trailed off uncertainly and glanced at Tauriel. “I guess they went to Elrond’s,” she said then before returning to her food.

Ms Rowanier wrinkled her brows and glanced at the wine glass on the kitchen counter. “Your letter must have shocked him quite a bit… Who are your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Now it was Legolas’s turn to frown. The question seemed completely out of topic. He couldn’t see where it connected to what they had just been talking about, considering he had told her nothing of his mother. “I don’t know my father… and my mother isn’t… wasn’t someone you are likely to know,” he said, knowing it probably sounded rude, but he couldn’t help it. He really didn’t want to talk about his mother to a complete stranger who, by the looks of it, didn’t know any hardship in her life at all. So to forestall any questions coming from her, he asked one of his own – he had just remembered where he had seen Ms Rowanier before.

“You were at Heathrow Airport a few days ago, weren’t you?” She did look decidedly different now – what with her tousled hair, sleep-filled eyes and her pyjamas – but she was undoubtedly the same woman.

She nodded slowly. “How do you…” She stopped and cocked her head again as if to study him from under a different angle. Her eyes widened. “That was you… I remember seeing a blonde turning away from all the commotion surrounding me… You caught my attention because of your hair. It’s so much like Thranduil’s…”

“I didn’t mean to upset you by turning away. But, to be honest, I didn’t know you were famous – I wouldn’t have known if Tauriel hadn’t told me just now – and I just wanted to get my ticket…”

“No, no, I don’t blame you,” she said with a smile. He smiled back uncertainly and took another bite of food to appease his growling stomach.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask this again. Who was your mother, Legolas?”

Legolas shot a helpless look at Tauriel. She shook her head softly, an apologetic look on her face. “I fear she won’t give up until she knows. She can be quite inquisitive. And, as you say, it’s not likely she will know her anyway, so why not just give her the name and be done with it?”

He sighed and decided to follow Tauriel’s advice. After all, it couldn’t hurt, could it? “Her name was Lindariel Laeron…”

Tauriel’s mother’s eyes widened in shock… and recognition.

***

A myriad of images flashed through Calandiel’s mind when she heard the name. Through the window of the car, she again saw a young woman, a girl actually, stumble out of a pub blaring loud music, a bundle pressed tightly to her chest. A tiny fist was sticking out of the clothes, trying to catch the snowflakes.

She remembered how she had told her driver to stop, how she had got out of the car and crossed the street to talk to the girl.

She remembered how hopeful the girl had looked when Calandiel had promised her she would get her a job so she and her baby didn’t have to live on the streets.

And she remembered the girl whispering her name while Calandiel stared down into the soft blue eyes of the baby boy. “Lindariel Laeron, ma’am.”

It was into those exact same eyes that she was staring right now.

***

Legolas stared at Ms Rowanier.

Tauriel noticed the sudden silence and looked up, too. “Nana? Don’t tell me you know his mother…”

“Please leave us alone for a while, iell nin. I have to talk to your friend,” Ms Rowanier replied in an absent-minded voice, running a hand through her tousled hair.

Tauriel shot Legolas a questioning look. He bit his lip, then nodded uncertainly. This was important. If Ms Rowanier had really known his mother… So Tauriel left them alone, taking her plate with her.

“You did know my mother, then?” Legolas blurted out the moment she was gone.

“I knew her, yes. Fleetingly. I got her a job in the hotel I was living in when I was in London for a film I was acting in. It was the-“

“Kingston Hotel,” he said softly. Until he’d been about ten years old, he’d spent much of his life at the hotel. He remembered these years quite fondly. “So you are the woman she was constantly talking about. And, now that I think of it, I believe she also watched some of your movies on TV when she wasn’t… when she had the time…” He had almost said ‘when she wasn’t on drugs’, but he didn’t want to reveal that just now.

Ms Rowanier smiled sadly. “I have to admit that I forgot about her soon afterwards. It wasn’t until I visited London and stayed in the same hotel once again – many, many years later – that I thought of her once more. But when I asked the hotel manager he said she was gone…”

Legolas nodded. That fit with his version of events. When he’d been ten, his mother had been kicked out of the hotel because she’d failed to show up for work many times, and when she did come, she’d been on drugs. He had begged the manager to give her another chance, but the man had had enough with her. That was when he had dropped out of school because without the money from the hotel, they couldn’t afford him going there. And that was also when they had moved in to John. Legolas shuddered at the memory.

Ms Rowanier studied him and seemed on the verge of asking him a question when he spoke. “Thank you for getting her the job. Not everyone would have done that.”

“You’re welcome,” Tauriel’s mother answered, and, after an uncomfortable pause, she added, “Since you are here alone, I assume that she…”

“She is dead, yes,” Legolas admitted heavily. There was no point in denying it any longer, and, besides, he felt he could trust Ms Rowanier after everything she had told him. “And the letter I gave to Mr Greenwood was from her…”

Understanding blossomed on Ms Rowanier’s face, and she looked resolute. “I take it you want to stay here, yes?”

Legolas was taken aback by the sudden change of topic. “Umm…” He did want to stay in this place because it gave him the chance to befriend Tauriel and to see Elladan and Elrohir again and also because it was just fabulous, but he didn’t know how to say so without appearing rude. “Only if it doesn’t cause any trouble and only until I’ve found a place where I can stay permanently,” he ended up muttering.

Ms Rowanier smiled at him. “It won’t be a problem – look at this house, it will be good to have another inhabitant in here. And you don’t have to search for a place to stay; you can stay here however long you like.”

“Thank you, Ms Rowanier, but… what about Mr Greenwood? He really didn’t seem pleased to see me…”

She shook her head softly. “Call me Calandiel. And don’t worry about Thranduil… I’ll handle him.”


	9. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> This is a bit of a filler chapter, in which Legolas adapts to his new life and meets Arwen, Aragorn and Galion (not to mention a kitten), but I hope it's not too boring for you - I just needed to let some time pass before Thranduil get the (obvious) results.

Thranduil pressed the wad of gauze to the crook of his left forearm, where Elrond had taken a small sample of his blood. He hadn’t said a word since he’d rushed out of his house and had let Glorfindel do all the talking while he was mulling things over.

Now, however, he opened his mouth to speak. “When will I get the results?”

Elrond and Glorfindel looked up from their whispered conversation. “In three or four days,” the healer said.

Thranduil nodded and look down again. Three days… That was not nearly enough time for what he had been planning to do before the boy turned up on his doorstep. He’d had it all mapped out in his mind, it had been a glorious and wonderful plan, but he couldn’t do it now. He didn’t think it would even work now, not with the boy possibly (or maybe really?) being his- _Stop it!_, he told himself. _He’s not your son, that’s just a strange coincidence._

He sighed and looked at his friends again, who were studying him with worried expressions. “Can I stay here for the afternoon?” Valar, his voice didn’t sound normal at all!

“Sure, Thran. You know that”, Elrond said with a kind smile.

“It has been a long time actually since we three were alone together”, Glorfindel said, grinning mischievously. “Do you remember that time in Oxford when we…”

They ended up talking and reminiscing for hours, ignoring phone calls from their wife, girlfriend and soon-to-be-boyfriend respectively. Thranduil managed to forget about his plight for most of the time, but then, when it was already getting a bit darker outside, he overheard the twins through the door leading to the corridor.

“… wonder if Legolas has given Thranduil his letter,” one of them said. Thranduil thought it was Elrohir.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s text Tauriel to find out.”

Thranduil fought back the urge to bite his lip. The boy’s name had brought his dilemma to the forefront of his mind again, and suddenly he found he couldn’t stand his friends’ banter anymore. He fished his phone out of his pocket and faked a call from the deputy CEO of one of his IT companies.

“What is it?” Elrond asked as he put down the phone again.

“Feren just called. He needs urgent help with something…”

Glorfindel wrinkled his brows. “Thran, it’s Sunday. You don’t make Feren work on Sundays, do you?”

“Of course not. But Feren’s alone at home right now, and he was bored, so he got down to work,” Thranduil replied smoothly, internally apologising to Feren for involving him in his ruse. “Well, I have to go. He sounded quite desperate.”

With that, Thranduil was out before the other two could say much more. Fifteen minutes later, he sat in his car, driving out of the city. He just needed some time alone.

***

Legolas stepped out of the room Calandiel had given him. It was very spacious and had big windows looking out on the park-like surroundings of Mr Greenwood’s house. At first, Legolas had protested at being given such a nice room – rooms actually, he also had his own bathroom and a room for clothes that he would never be able to fill –, but Calandiel had said they didn’t have any smaller rooms in the house anyway.

Even with the unbelievable immensity of the house, his mind was grappling with another thing: the way everyone talked about “handling” Mr Greenwood. He wondered what would make people say something like that…

As he closed the door to his rooms, his musings were interrupted by a loud shriek. “Catch him!” Confused, he looked up the hallway in the direction the shout had come from. Tauriel was practically running towards him from her own rooms, gesturing frantically at the floor.

Legolas saw a grey-white blur, about the size of a trainer, shooting towards him. He bent down and caught the fluffy bundle in his hands. It was a cat – no, a kitten. It looked at him with big, innocent eyes for a moment, then obviously decided he was not a threat. The beating of its tiny heart slowed down as it snuggled closer to Legolas’s chest.

Tauriel arrived by his side. “Thank the Valar you caught him… Thran doesn’t want him downstairs,” she added as an explanation when Legolas shot her a questioning look. “Unfortunately, he always tries to escape…”

“What’s his name?” Legolas asked as they both walked back to Tauriel’s rooms. The kitten now seemed very content and calm.

“He doesn’t have one yet. I’m lousy at inventing names, and I don’t want him to have a random cat name…”

“Hmm.” Legolas looked down at the kitten in his arms. “The colour of his fur reminds me of something I’ve seen in London… a kind of poster or something…” He racked his memories. “Oh, it was the poster of an old man advertising his wizardry and fireworks show. I remember because Billy kept talking about it… The man’s beard and hair had the same colour as your kitten’s fur.”

“What was the man’s name?” Tauriel asked as they entered her room.

“Gandalf. At least that’s what the poster said. I think it was his artist’s name…”

“Gandalf… I’d like that as his name. It’s weird enough to be noticed… Hey, kitty, are you a Gandalf?”

Legolas laughed as the kitten just sank deeper into his arms, closing its eyes. Its whiskers tickled his skin.

“Gandalf it is.”

***

The next morning came, and Legolas felt well rested and eager to explore this world in which he was now living in. He thought of yesterday, and it made him smile. He and Tauriel had played with Gandalf for what had seemed like hours, then Elladan and Elrohir had come over to watch a movie. And they had promised to come over again today.

He got up and changed into the clothes the Peredhels had given him. Then, very quietly, so as not to wake anyone who might still be asleep, he snuck into the kitchen to grab some food. He was startled to see everyone up already: Tauriel, still with sleep-tousled hair, Calandiel, looking professional in her suit, and a brown-haired man unknown to Legolas. Mr Greenwood seemed to be missing.

“Good morning,” Legolas said quietly, causing the brown-haired man to jump.

“I thought you said-“ the man started, then he spotted Legolas. His eyes widened.

“Galion, this is Legolas Laeron. He lives here now,” Calandiel said firmly. Legolas noticed that she didn’t specify for how long he would stay here, which made him quite happy, even though he’d told her yesterday he would only stay until he’d found a place of his own. “Legolas, this is Galion, Thranduil’s … butler.”

Legolas held out his hand to the man, trying not to seem too surprised that Mr Greenwood had a butler of his own. He was not a royal, was he? “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Galion beamed as he shook Legolas’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mr Laeron. For any questions concerning the house, ask me.”

“Thank you, sir. And please, call me Legolas. I’m not used to being addressed so formally.”

Galion laughed. “I know what you mean. You can call me Galion as well. And now sit down, sit down.”

Legolas did as he was told. While he ate, he listened to the buzz of conversation around him. Apparently, Mr Greenwood hadn’t been at home at all this night. Legolas felt guilty, sure that it was his fault. Soon, however, he was shaken out of his musings by Tauriel.

“Hey, Brit, who is Billy?”

“What?” he asked distractedly.

“Billy. You mentioned him yesterday when we named Gandalf. Oh, Nana, Galion, just so you know, the kitten has a name now. It’s Gandalf.” At that, Galion and Calandiel both burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Legolas whispered to Tauriel, who seemed bewildered.

“No idea,” she whispered back. “Well, ignore them. Who is Billy now?”

“A friend I had when I was still in school,” Legolas answered, ceasing to whisper.

“He’s still in London?”

Legolas nodded and felt guilty. He hadn’t told Billy that he would leave. But before he could ask Tauriel if he could phone someone in London from here, she said, “I wish I was also finished with school already…”

Legolas bit his lips. “I’m not finished actually, I…” He trailed off, embarrassed

“Yeah?” Tauriel prompted him.

“I stopped going to school when I was ten,” he admitted. Tauriel stared at him, shocked, as silence fell. Galion and Calandiel had also stopped talking.

“You haven’t been to school since you were ten?” the latter asked.

Legolas nodded again, and, feeling the need to explain, he added, “My mum couldn’t afford sending me to school. I had to help her get money, so we could pay the rent and everything…”

Embarrassed silence filled the room once again; Legolas concentrated on his breakfast.

“Well, I have to be off now. My agent says he has an interesting script for me,” Calandiel said abruptly. Legolas was glad for the change of topic.

Tauriel jumped up, too. “I’ll call Kíli.” She rushed out of the kitchen, Calandiel following after her, throwing a quick “Goodbye!” in the direction of Legolas and Galion.

Legolas looked at the butler. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “Thanks for breakfast.” The butler only nodded and watched him go.

***

After brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and paste he had found in his bathroom, Legolas went out of the house through a backdoor which he hadn’t seen the previous day and started exploring the huge gardens. Calandiel’s and Galion’s shocked faces continued to pop up in his mind for a while, but strolling through the gardens and listening to the birds’ song helped calm him down. He decided he wanted to see how large the gardens really were, so he went to the nearest wall and started walking next to it wherever that was possible. Even with his brisk pace, it took him around half an hour to reach the spot where he had started.

Legolas shook his head softly, still marvelling at the vastness. He didn’t feel ready to return to the house yet; instead, he wanted to exercise and do some parkour as his sprained wrist felt alright today. As he unwound the bandage, his eyes alighted on a large tree and the flat lawn that surrounded it. Perfect.

He strolled toward the tree and, once there, removed his shirt. Together with the bandage, he put it on the ground and started his usual warm-up programme.

***

Tauriel strolled by the window to put her phone on the bedside table. She’d only just finished talking to Kíli. She had told him about Legolas, how he had arrived yesterday and how he would now live in this house. Of course, her boyfriend was jealous now, but there was nothing she could do against that, so she didn’t worry too much.

On her way to the bathroom to finally brush her teeth and get dressed for today, she looked out the window. What she saw made her stop and step closer to have a better view. She blinked. There was Legolas, that tall, skinny boy, his chest naked, doing the most amazing acrobatics she had ever seen, a mix of breakdance… and she didn’t know what. But it looked really cool!

Tauriel watched him for a while, her mouth open. She’d never thought he could do such things; he just didn’t look the part. However, now that she saw his chest, she had to revise that assessment a bit. He was quite muscular actually, though his muscles weren’t bulging as Kíli’s were. No, Legolas’s were well-defined, but slim. Like a runner’s muscles. Or an archer’s, she thought with a smile, her own bow and arrows coming to her mind.

What worried her, though, about Legolas’s appearance was how thin he was. His collarbones were jutting out, and she could clearly see his ribs. Well, she just had to make sure he ate enough, but with Galion and her mother around that wouldn’t be too hard. The two were already fawning over him like mother hens anyway.

Tauriel grinned, snatched her phone from the bedside table and texted the twins a message. –You’ve got to come over and see this. But be quiet – you don’t want to startle him.–

***

Legolas ended his training by running up the tree one, two, three steps, then coming down again with a backflip. For a moment, he stood poised on his feet, panting, pleased with himself. Even though he hadn’t trained in a few days, he could still remember every movement. And his wrist hadn’t hurt at all!

Suddenly, he became aware that there were people clapping behind him. He whirled around and saw Tauriel, Elladan and Elrohir by the pool.

“By the Valar, Legolas, that was amazing!” Elrohir exclaimed as they came over.

“’Amazing’ is an understatement!” Tauriel added, and Elladan said, “Indeed!”

Legolas smiled brightly, basking in their attention. This was even better than his “regulars” in London, passers-by who had stopped by his spot regularly to watch and had then handed him five- or ten-pound notes. “Thanks,” he managed to say, and when they asked him where he had learned it, he told them he had taught it to himself.

They ended up chatting quite a long time until Legolas announced that he really needed a shower. At that, Tauriel suggested that he use the garden shower by the pool and they all go swimming. The twins agreed enthusiastically and sprinted off towards their home to fetch their things. When they were back, Tauriel also sauntered out of the house again, dressed in a bikini. Legolas’s jaw dropped, but thankfully he was saved from having to say something by Elladan who gave him a pair of his own spare swimming trunks.

Legolas took a shower, changed into the trunks and jumped into the pool together with the others. Later, he would realise that they had splashed around so much that the pool had noticeably less water than before, but at the moment he didn’t notice that. In fact, this day and the next two he had so much fun that time passed like lightning.

They took to watching movies until late in the night, sometimes together with Tauriel, but most often without her. They also drove him to town the next day so he could apply for permanent residence. This proved to be a bit awkward because the man behind the counter kept asking questions, especially about his education and why he wanted to stay in the US. Legolas answered everything truthfully, but he was glad when the interview was over and he could join the twins again who had waited outside. They then took him to one of their favourite restaurants where he tried sushi for the first time in his life.

After their sushi meal, Elladan and Elrohir drove to the airport to fetch Estel and Arwen, who had returned from their holidays, so Legolas had the afternoon for himself. He spent it with Galion who gave him a detailed tour of Mr Greenwood’s ‘palace’ – he had taken to calling it thus, even though everyone else referred to it as a ‘house’ –, then worked out again and practised his parkour. When he was in the shower, Galion called up to him and said that Elrond was on the phone for him. Legolas hurried downstairs, just a towel around his waist, Galion gave him the phone, and Elrond invited him around for dinner so he could meet Arwen and Aragorn.

So Legolas spent the evening in the company of the entire Peredhel family. He found he liked Aragorn – or Estel, as everyone called him – and Arwen very much. They told amazing stories of Venice and truly seemed to love each other. When Legolas came to the palace again very late in the night (Elrond had accompanied him to the gate to open it for him with his fingerprint), Legolas heard Calandiel ask someone where he had been. At first, Legolas assumed it was him she meant, but then another voice answered, and he realised Mr Greenwood must be at home. He wondered if he should say something, but he decided against it when he heard Calandiel say, in response to Mr Greenwood’s gruff reply, “I wish you would tell me what bothers you, love.” In order not to interrupt them, Legolas tiptoed up to his room and closed the door very silently.

The scene he had just witnessed had dented his happiness somewhat because he knew that he was the reason for Mr Greenwood’s continued absences during the day, that he was “what bothered him”, as Calandiel had formulated it, and that therefore he was also the reason why Tauriel’s mother was sad. And that was something he could not accept, not when she had shown him nothing but kindness.


	10. Test Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, as the title says, Thranduil gets the (obvious) paternity test results...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> Finally a new chapter (they are getting longer and longer, I hope you don't mind.)!  
Thanks again to everyone who is leaving kudos on this story - it means a lot to me! :)

Thranduil opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his and Calandiel’s bedroom. She must have already left as the other side of the bed was cold and empty. He sighed and tried to move to get up but found he didn’t have the will to do so. The last two days had been exhausting. He had tried to bury himself in work, had left his house very early in the morning and returned late in the evening. His strategy had worked only partly: true, he had worked a lot and the state of his companies had never been better at this time of the year, but whenever he had set his mind to rest, images of the British boy and his accursed letter had assaulted him.

He knew his absence made Calandiel sad, and he was angry with himself for making her sad when all he actually wanted was to make her happy. At the same time, though, he just didn’t know how to deal with the boy and the fact that he might very well be his son. He just couldn’t come to terms with this, not when the boy’s arrival had destroyed the wonderful plans he had had for him and Calandiel, not when, deep within himself, Thranduil was afraid. Afraid of what it might mean to have a son. To be a father. A good father.

Thranduil forced himself out of bed and told himself very firmly not to dwell on such thoughts. He had to think of something positive. Even though he always tuned out when Calandiel started talking about the boy, he vaguely remembered her telling him that the boy spent most of his time with Elrond’s twin sons. Maybe today was no exception. Maybe he was already gone. That would mean that he, Thranduil, could maybe spend this day here, at home, with his love.

With that thought in mind, Thranduil felt strong enough to put on some clothes and brush his long hair which was still tangled from his uneasy sleep. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he proceeded down to the ground floor for breakfast. When he passed Tauriel’s room on the first floor, he heard the kitten mewling behind the closed door. He sighed. What had possessed him to allow Tauriel to keep a pet here? Oh yes, now he remembered! He had _not_ allowed her to! She and Calandiel had just shown up with the animal and had declared that it would live here now. And Thranduil had been forced to accept it.

He shook his head softly as he arrived on the ground floor, though he was secretly amused by their behaviour and by Tauriel’s rather childish wish to have a pet all of a sudden. He heard voices from the kitchen as he walked down the hallway.

“… you know, Nana and I won’t be here tonight. We’ll go out with Arwen and her Nana.”

“Girls’ night,” Calandiel added affectionately.

Thranduil stepped through the doorway into the kitchen just as the boy asked, “And where are you-“ His arrival made the boy stop mid-sentence, and seeing the boy made Thranduil stop mid-stride. They stared at each other. In the back of his mind, Thranduil registered how they four of them – the boy, Calandiel, Tauriel and Galion – looked like a real family.

The boy stood up quickly, and the spell was broken. “Mr Greenwood, I’d like to-“

But Thranduil didn’t hear the rest of what the boy had wanted to say because he had already fled the room. He couldn’t bear to see the boy with the others, couldn’t bear to hear him talk, couldn’t bear to be remembered of the plans he’d had and of the fears he harboured.

***

Legolas sighed and sat down again, decidedly unhappy. “Could anyone tell me what I’ve done wrong?” He looked at Calandiel, who was silent for a moment. “Please?” he added hopefully.

“It’s nothing you have done, dear,” she answered absent-mindedly. “It seems you just popped up at a really bad time for him, although I don’t know why that might be the case, actually… He doesn’t talk to me about it…”

Legolas studied her closely and found she looked very unhappy at the idea of Thranduil not sharing everything with her. And her words, instead of soothing him, just reinforced his belief that it was indeed his fault.

“Then I’ll leave,” he said firmly. As much as he enjoyed living here, he really didn’t want to cause her any more pain.

At his announcement, however, Calandiel looked at him and shook her head. “Please stay, Legolas. Thranduil will come round eventually. I know he will…”

Legolas sighed, torn between his conflicting feelings. “I… I really like it here, and all of you have been so nice to me, but… I still feel like an intruder because he keeps looking at me as if I were… I don’t know, a three-headed dog or something equally scary. And I feel like I am the reason that there is a rift between you. I don’t want to drive you apart. I never wanted that.” At these words, he looked at Calandiel, refusing to feel embarrassed for his speech. He just felt that this needed to be said. “If Mr Greenwood personally tells me that I can stay, I will do so gladly because I really enjoy it here. If he doesn’t, though, I’ll leave.”

Without his knowing, there was a stubborn set to his jaw that reminded Calandiel very much of Thranduil.

***

Thranduil drove way too fast, but he couldn’t care less about that now. Seeing the boy in the midst of his family – yes, Thranduil’s little family, not the boy’s! – as if he already belonged there had been too much for him. He just couldn’t see why there were being so nice to the boy! It wasn’t as if he had done anything special! He had just turned up with that stupid letter, and everyone had believed his story right away!

However, the boy’s story just couldn’t be true, Thranduil was convinced of that. He _knew_ it! There were only two possibilities and neither one involved the boy actually being his son (he shuddered at the mere thought!): one, the boy was an extremely accomplished actor participating in a hoax designed to destabilise him, to make him lose interest in his companies, to make him lose money and his position as a very influential and much admired businessman. If it was indeed a hoax, then Oakenshield was behind it, that much was certain. That dwarfish man always tried to get what he, Thranduil, already had: lots of fame, lots of money and the biggest share of the software market his companies operated in.

The second option was that the boy was a real beggar who had been lured to his house because he had heard of his wealth. This was entirely plausible as well because, to be honest, who _hadn’t_ heard of the huge amounts of money Thranduil had?

Thranduil didn’t know which of the two options he found more disturbing (probably the second one because it didn’t explain why the boy looked so uncannily like him), but he knew that neither of them was as disturbing as what Elrond seemed to believe: that the boy was indeed his son.

The traffic light ahead of him flashed to red, and Thranduil slammed his foot on the brake pedal of his car. It screeched to a halt just in front of the stop line, and he grinned. At least he could still drive his car perfectly well.

There was a police car in the lane next to his, and the two officers inside threw him disapproving looks. Thranduil raised an eyebrow imperiously, and they blinked when they realised who he was. He chuckled, pleased that they had recognised him (but then, who wouldn’t?), and drove off at top speed when the traffic light switched to green again, quickly leaving the police car far behind him.

***

Once again, Legolas spent the day with the Peredhel children and also with Tauriel. She had given him one of her spare smartphones when he had shown her his battered, old mobile, and the twins had then driven him to town and bought him a prepaid card. Right now, they were showing him how to operate this new phone with which he was entirely unfamiliar.

“Can I also call someone in London with that?” he asked, marvelling at the size of the screen. Although Tauriel had qualified it as small when she had given it to him, it was still five times larger than the screen of his old mobile phone.

“Yeah, I think the prepaid card we got allows you two international calls per month,” Elladan replied, checking the brochure once again that the salesman had given them. “Yep,” he confirmed a second later. And then he added something about downloading a certain application and asking his friend in London if he had the same app, so they could talk for free.

“Okay,” Legolas answered softly, a bit confused, but, more importantly, still feeling guilty that they had paid for everything so far, for his sushi the other day, now for his card. Not to mention all the spare clothes he’d got for free from the Peredhels. He had tried to tell them that he would eventually pay them back, but they would hear none of it.

“Is it still raining?” Estel asked. He was massaging Arwen’s shoulders as she and Tauriel played a video game.

“No, but it’s all grey and windy outside,” Elrohir said after a quick glance out of the window. “I don’t feel like going out for lunch, do you, guys?” Everyone shook their heads, the girls still focused on their game.

“One of you gentlemen could cook for us,” Tauriel suggested absent-mindedly.

“Great idea! Let the guys do the work for once,” Arwen chimed in enthusiastically. She paused the game, and the two girls looked at the boys expectantly. Elladan and Elrohir squirmed on the sofa, and Aragorn looked away pointedly.

“I can cook,” Legolas said quickly, pleased that there was at least _something_ he could do for them. “If you have nothing against pasta, that is?”

“Not at all,” Tauriel said with a radiant smile, and Legolas blushed slightly.

“Now there’s a real gentleman.” Arwen shot a meaningful look at Tauriel, though its significance was lost on Legolas, who made his way to the kitchen. “Some of you will have to show Legolas where everything is!” Arwen added, and Estel obediently stood up to help. “Good boy.” The girls puffed with laughter as Aragorn grumbled.

One hour later, Legolas was very happy to see everyone tucking in and even praising the meal. He had cooked the only a bit more sophisticated dish that he could cook, pasta with a certain kind of tomato pesto. The pesto was special in that it contained ingredients one would not usually expect. Legolas had been given the recipe by an old Italian woman in London for whom he had often cleaned the house or gone shopping. He had cooked it so often that he knew the recipe by heart. And, of course, with the high-quality ingredients he had found in the Peredhel’s kitchen it tasted better than ever. A sentiment obviously shared by his friends.

“Legolas, this is absolutely amazing!” or “By the Valar, that’s so good, I could eat everything at once!” were just two of their exclamations. Legolas blushed profoundly at their praise, and even more when he saw the twins and Aragorn take second and even third helpings. The girls, of course, didn’t as they would go out for a sumptuous dinner in the evening, but they, too, agreed that it tasted fantastic.

Legolas had cooked far too much – “Just like Thranduil,” Aragorn commented, which made Legolas feel slightly uncomfortable for a moment –, but it didn’t matter as Elrond came home right then.

“Ada, what are you doing here so early?” Elrohir asked.

Elrond shrugged. “There wasn’t much to do at the hospitals today, so I took the afternoon off to spar with Glorfindel… And what’s that delicious smell?” He came into the kitchen, looking around.

“It’s Legolas’s pasta,” Arwen said. “It’s delicious. But what to do you mean, Glorfindel comes over to spar? Doesn’t he usually train with Thranduil?”

Elrond nodded and sat down at the table, pulling a plate towards him after a questioning glance at Legolas, who nodded as well, completely caught off guard that Elrond would ask if he could have something when they were in his house and when it was actually _his_ pasta!

“Yeah, you’re right, but Thranduil has been… difficult these days,” Elrond said carefully and took a first spoonful of pasta. His eyes widened. “Valar, Legolas! Where did you learn to cook like this?”

Legolas blushed and explained the story again, although he didn’t reveal the special ingredients. And then an idea came to him. “Elrond, could I talk to you afterwards, please? In private?”

Elrond nodded, looking curious.

***

In the evening, Thranduil was quite pleased with the amount of work he had done and decided to stop for now. He had heard that today was girls’ night for Calandiel and Tauriel, and he assumed that the boy wouldn’t be in the house all on his own, so maybe he could get some much-needed rest without being disturbed.

With this in mind, he left his office just as his phone beeped. He sighed, fished it out of the pocket of his suit trousers and glanced at it. Elrond had texted him. Thranduil frowned and opened the message.

-Hey, Thran, your results are here. If you want, you can still drop by and get them. Glorfindel is also here.-

Thranduil’s heart suddenly beat hard and fast against his ribcage, and a smile lit up his face. Now he would get proof of his theories, now he would finally be able to send the boy away. Throughout the day, he had managed to convince himself that one of his theories was true, so it didn’t even occur to him that the test might be positive, that he might really have a son.

He texted Elrond back to say that he was coming, then quickly left the company, got into his car and drove off. He was so excited to get the results that he brazenly ignored all the speed limits – again.

Half an hour later, he was finally in Elrond’s study. He had greeted the healer and Glorfindel with a bright smile, but now he felt that same smile fade as he stared at the official document Elrond had given him. _Paternity practically proven_, it said. His hand was shaking with suppressed rage and fear, so the words became blurry, but he could still read them, over and over again: _Paternity practically proven_.

“You can use this document to get permanent resident status for-“ Elrond was saying as Thranduil cut him off with a deceptively calm voice.

“Are you sure the results are correct? That there has been no mistake?”

Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged a disbelieving look. “Thran…”

“Are the results correct?” Thranduil asked again, louder this time.

Elrond nodded warily, then decided to plough on regardless of Thranduil’s feelings for once. Solving the boy’s situation was more important right now. “Thran, what more proof do you need? The results are correct, but only a fool would need those to see that you are Legolas’s father! He looks almost exactly like you!”

“And he can cook like a god, too,” Glorfindel added. He could still taste this delicious tomato pasta, which he had tasted after sparring with Elrond, on his tongue.

Thranduil now rounded on Glorfindel. “So, you are on his side, too?! Even though you know what even the sight of this accursed boy does to me?! You were supposed to be my friends, not his!”

“Thran,” Glorfindel began slowly, completely caught off guard by Thranduil’s outburst; usually, his friend wasn’t that emotional. “I can see that Legolas’s presence is… problematic for you, but if you’d just tell us what it is that troubles you, then we could help you.”

“We are still your friends, Thran,” Elrond said in a pained voice.

Thranduil snorted derisively. Deep down in his mind he knew he hurt his friends, but at the moment he really didn’t care. “Well, if you are my friends, then you will not tell anybody – least of all the boy – that he is…” – he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud – “you will not tell anybody about the results.” He folded the document Elrond had given him and stuffed it in his pocket. His fingers brushed against the little box he carried with him all the time. This box contained the embodiment of all his plans…

“Why would you want to keep this a secret, Thran?”

“Because I’m sending the boy away,” Thranduil replied flatly. “Nobody can say anything against me chucking a complete stranger out of my house.”

“Please, Thran, you are not being reasonable.” Elrond, who could normally read people as if they were an open book, was completely confused by his friend’s behaviour. “Why do you want to send him away? He is your son, and-“

“Because the boy destroyed everything!” Thranduil hissed in anger, clutching the little box in his pocket.

Glorfindel and Elrond shared a look, but before they could ask what he meant, Thranduil added, “And now promise, no, swear that you will not tell anybody!”

“Thranduil-“

“Swear it, now!” Both of his friends actually took a step backward and hastily swore that they would do as he said. Thranduil forced his hand out of his pocket and tried to regain his usually calm, if somewhat cold demeanor.

“I’ll leave now. And don’t you dare follow me – I want to be alone now.” He walked to the door.

“Two more things, Thran,” Elrond began, and Thranduil stopped to listen, but he didn’t turn around to face his friends. “You are making a very big mistake. Legolas is a wonderful boy, smart, polite and very attentive to the needs of others. He knows he is the reason for your… discomfort, and he feels guilty about it. Today he even asked me if he could start in one of my hospitals as a cleaning person or if I had any other job for him, so he could move out of your house as soon as possible and get his own flat. He also told me that Calandiel’s been very sad these days and that he felt it was his fault when it is actually yours, Thranduil.” Nothing of Elrond’s speech had moved Thranduil, except this last part. He had made Calandiel, his love, sad. He opened his mouth to say something, to protest, but Elrond was not finished.

“And secondly, sending Legolas away won’t make any difference. You will still see him and people will still make the connection between you and him because if you don’t let him live with you, Celebrían and I or anyone else will. I know that Celeborn and Galadriel would be delighted, and…”

“… and I wouldn’t mind having a youngster in my house, either,” Glorfindel added.

“Are you finished now?” Thranduil asked quietly, sounding more confused than angry now. Elrond’s comments about Calandiel – they had made him feel guilty. He really needed time for himself to think everything over. “Then I’ll leave. Don’t follow me,” he said once again and rushed out of the house.

As he closed the door behind him, peals of laughter rang out from the upper storey of the house. Thranduil could clearly detect the boy’s voice amongst those of Elrond’s children. Their laughter only added to his misery because now he was also jealous as he couldn’t even remember the last time he had laughed in such a carefree way.

A few minutes later, he came home. It was blissfully empty as Calandiel and Tauriel were still out, the boy was at Elrond’s and Galion had left for the night. He toed off his shoes and stood uncertainly in the hallway. Then he walked by the open kitchen door, and he gaze fell on the wine cupboard in the corner. Mmh… the thought of some wine was quite appealing. It would help him sort out his thoughts.


	11. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas meets Thranduil when he's drunk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, which are trademarked by J.R.R. Tolkien (and Peter Jackson). I do not claim ownership over them or the world of The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.R.R. Tolkien’s or Peter Jackson’s storyline. I do not earn any money from this story.
> 
> So, finally another chapter! Thank you for sticking with this story, even though I didn't post for months. I'm sorry about that, but I started my Master's degree, so I had loads of work. However, I should be able to post more regularly during the holidays. :)  
Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. The encounter between Legolas and Thranduil was actually the first scene I had in mind when I came up with this story...

Late this night, Glorfindel accompanied Legolas to Thranduil’s house so he could let the boy in with his fingerprint. While they walked along in silence, Glorfindel tried not to worry too much, but he failed miserably: the thought of letting young, innocent Legolas into a house in which he would be alone with Thranduil in his dangerous mood was disturbing. However, he had no other choice. The situation had to be solved, and this had best be done by the two people involved in it, Legolas and Thranduil. Glorfindel just hoped that Elrond was right with his prediction that everything would work out just fine.

In order to distract himself, Glorfindel complimented Legolas once again on the meal he had cooked and particularly on the acrobatics the boy had performed for them on the twins’ insistence. The boy blushed furiously and thanked him.

“But your sparring match with Elrond was much more impressive!” Legolas then said enthusiastically.

Glorfindel smiled. He had trained with Elrond that afternoon as Thranduil had been absent – again! The twins, Aragorn and Legolas had all come out to watch. Legolas had been completely awed by the sight, and a look of longing had filled his eyes as Elrond’s sons had told him that they had learned how to fight with swords, too. Remembering that look now, Glorfindel said, “If you want, I can teach you how to fight…”

Legolas eyes went wide as he stared at him. “You… you would do that?” Then his expression soured. “As much as I’d like to, I don’t have the money to pay you for your lessons,” he mumbled.

At this, Glorfindel laughed. “Don’t worry about that! I’ve taught Elrond’s children for free, just like I did with Tauriel, Haldir, Rumil and Orophin. It’s only fair that you should receive free training as well since you are-“ Glorfindel stopped himself just in time. “… since you live here now,” he finished, cursing himself for his carelessness. He had nearly revealed everything; Thranduil would have been more than angry with him if he hadn’t caught himself just in time.

Luckily though, Legolas was too excited to notice anything. “Really? Do you mean that?” he asked in a hopeful voice, and Glorfindel nodded.

“Thank you!” They walked in silence again for a few paces, then Legolas said, “But do you think I’m strong enough for that? The sword you let me hold was really heavy…”

Glorfindel frowned and studied the boy. “We will not start with the real swords right away, but with wooden training swords. I think, however, that you might be better off with long knives anyway. They are faster, and you can combine them with your… what was it called? Ah yes, with your parkour moves.” Glorfindel smiled at the boy’s excited nod.

Legolas beamed. “That would be awesome!”

They had reached the wooden gate. Glorfindel pressed his thumb to the scanner, and, after a moment, the gate swung open. They exchanged phone numbers so they could fix a date for Legolas’s first training session, then Legolas thanked Glorfindel for accompanying him to Thranduil’s house and bade him a good night.

Glorfindel looked after the boy until the gate was fully shut again. “Good luck. You will need it,” he whispered, then turned and walked home, deep in thought.

***

Legolas felt giddy with happiness. Glorfindel had said his parkour was great _and_ he’d offered to train him! He couldn’t wait to get started, especially since the twins, Aragorn and the girls could all fight, too. He did wonder why they would all learn that, though. They couldn’t all have the same hobby, now, could they?

As Legolas quietly opened the front door of the “palace”, he resolved to call Billy before going to sleep to tell him about everything that had happened so far. This, at least, he felt he owed to his childhood friend. And the time was good, too – it was so late in the night here that in London it had to be morning.

However, as Legolas walked by the open kitchen door after having shed his shoes, he had to stop and look at the sight in front of him. He immediately knew that he had to postpone phoning Billy: there was something or rather someone demanding his immediate attention.

Mr Greenwood, still clothed in an expensive-looking suit, was sitting slumped on a chair in the kitchen, holding a bottle of wine and mumbling incoherently. Legolas saw a puddle of red wine and shards of glass on the floor, and three other bottles were standing on the table next to Mr Greenwood.

Legolas hesitated for a moment and bit his lip. He knew Mr Greenwood didn’t like him at all, but he couldn’t just leave him like that. Legolas knew from dealing with his mother and John when they had taken drugs or drunk too much when more expensive things were not available that Mr Greenwood could be a danger to himself in that state.

Legolas had to help him. He considered calling Calandiel, but he didn’t want to disturb her night with Tauriel, Celebrían and Arwen. His next choice was Galion, but he also didn’t want to wake up the man. No, he had to do this by himself.

“Mr Greenwood?” he asked softly just to check something. The tall man didn’t react. _Not good_, Legolas thought, concerned. _If he doesn’t react at all, I’ll have to call the ambulance._ He wanted to avoid that, if possible, because it would lead to many uncomfortable questions about his person, but he knew that if Mr Greenwood was too drunk he had no other choice.

First of all, Legolas pulled back his hair and tied it to a low ponytail so it wouldn’t constantly get in his way. Next, he searched for the giant broom cupboard that he had stumbled across some time yesterday and fetched a bucket, which he placed in front of Mr Greenwood. Just in case.

Then, he gently tried to pry the bottle of wine out of Mr Greenwood’s unrelenting hands. That finally made the man react to his presence, which relieved Legolas greatly, even though the response directed at him was anything but friendly.

“Llleave mmee alone, you bas- bastard!” Mr Greenwood slurred.

“Yes, I’ll leave you alone, Mr Greenwood, if you just give me that bottle,” Legolas said soothingly. He had heard insults like this often before, even from his own mother when she was inebriated and he tried to care for her, so he was used to that.

“Nnnoo! It’sss mine…”

“I’ll give you a better one, I promise…” That finally made him release his hold on the bottle, and Legolas gave him the bucket to hold instead. He emptied the bottle (which was almost empty anyway) in the sink, taking care not to step into the puddle of wine or on the shards on the floor.

“Mr Greenwood, you have to stand up and come with me. Your wine is in another room…” Legolas tried to make the man stand up, but he was stronger than him and very unwilling to go.

“Then brrring itt to mme!” he commanded.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. It’s… it’s a whole barrel, and I can’t lift that. You’ll have to come with me,” Legolas lied wildly, knowing that in this state Mr Greenwood wouldn’t remember anything the next morning.

With a huge sigh, Mr Greenwood heaved himself off his chair. Legolas quickly caught the bucket and steadied Mr Greenwood at the same time so they wouldn’t both crash to the floor. He put one of Mr Greenwood’s muscular arms around his shoulders, carried the bucket with the other hand and shuffled his way to the door, pulling the tall man with him. He had initially planned to take Mr Greenwood to his bedroom, but judging from the way the man leaned on him and barely lifted his feet, Legolas knew they would never make it to the second floor in one piece. So he steered towards the spacious living room and made Mr Greenwood sit down on the huge sofa.

“Where’sss the winnne nnnow?” Mr Greenwood demanded, then Legolas saw him retch. His eyes widened, and he held the bucket under the man’s face while he pulled back his hair with his free hand. Luckily, he was accustomed to vomiting, too, or he would have puked from the stench wafting up from the newest contents of the bucket.

Legolas bit his lip as he watched Mr Greenwood, his eyes also taking in the expensive suit. It was a miracle that it wasn’t stained yet, but it didn’t have to stay this way. And Legolas rightly assumed that Mr Greenwood was quite fond of his suits and the way he looked in them…

Legolas took a deep breath, put the bucket aside and buttoned down Mr Greenwood’s suit jacket. The man was watching him more closely now, his brow furrowed. “Iss that youu, Glorfffindel?”

“… Yes, it’s me, Mr- I mean Thranduil,” Legolas stammered, belatedly remembering that Glorfindel would hardly call his friend ‘Mr Greenwood’. He winced internally at the lie, but he also thought it best to make Mr Greenwood believe that he was indeed his friend and not the one person he would hate to see in such a moment of weakness.

While Legolas stripped Mr Greenwood of his expensive clothes, he continued talking to the man in a soothing voice, promising that he would get his wine soon and saying “Yes, Thranduil” to whatever he would mumble unintelligibly every now and then.

Finally, after two more rounds of vomiting, Mr Greenwood sat in front of him clothed only in his boxers. Legolas noticed two pieces of paper and a little box lying on the sofa – they must have fallen out of the man’s pockets when he had removed his pants. Legolas wrinkled his brows and placed everything on the coffee table beside the sofa. He would look at that later – Mr Greenwood was more important now.

Legolas quickly wrapped the man in a blanket so he wouldn’t get cold and made him drink two glasses of water. Then, he coaxed him into lying down in the recovery position. As disgusting as it was, the vomiting had helped the man – he was now more drowsy than drunk. A good night’s sleep would cure everything, but he would have a devastating headache tomorrow, that much was sure.

“You should sleep now, Thranduil,” Legolas said sternly. At least he hoped he sounded stern, like Glorfindel would be to his friend if he were really here.

“But I’m not… tired,” the man whined, stubbornly hiding a yawn.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “You are. Just… just think of Calandiel,” he said on a whim. “The sooner you fall sleep, the sooner you will see her again.”

That made Mr Greenwood smile radiantly. Legolas noticed with relief that he still had trouble focusing on him, which meant that Mr Greenwood was unlikely to recognise him even though most of the alcohol had probably already left his body.

“Good idea, Glorfy… You are so cleverrrr…” Mr Greenwood’s eyes closed, and Legolas made a mental note never to tell Glorfindel that Mr Greenwood had called him ‘Glorfy’. He was sure the golden-haired man wouldn’t like that.

Legolas watched Mr Greenwood for a few minutes to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up. When he didn’t, Legolas draped another blanket over him, then took the bucket and emptied its disgusting contents into the sink in the kitchen. Then he quickly placed it by the sofa, in case Mr Greenwood needed it again. Next, he raced up to his rooms, fetched some clothes hangers and carefully hung up the man’s pants, jacket and shirt.

Every once in a while, Legolas checked on Mr Greenwood to make sure he wouldn’t move into another position than the one he was in now as this could lead to serious trouble if he still had alcohol in his stomach. When he was finished with the man’s clothes, his eyes once again fell on the two pieces of paper and the little box on the coffee table beside the sofa. What did Mr Greenwood carry around with him all day?

Curiosity and a desire to better understand the man got the better of him, and Legolas dragged a chair over to the sofa and sat down. First, he took the piece of paper that was more crumpled than the other one and unfolded it. It was lucky he was sitting, otherwise he would have had to sit down in this instant: his mother’s handwriting was looking back at him.

He quickly scanned the letter which he knew must be the one he himself had given to Mr Greenwood. And just like Mr Greenwood’s, his eyes found the words _you have a son; Legolas is his name_ and stayed glued to it. His heart was racing, his vision swam, and his hands were suddenly cold. He had a father. A father who was not dead. A father whom he had just cared for. Who was sleeping on the sofa beside him. Whose name was Thranduil Greenwood.

As he came to this conclusion, he looked at the man’s sleeping form. This is my father?, he asked himself. How can that be? With shaking hands, he took the other piece of paper and unfolded it too. It was an official-looking document. Its title – _Paternity test results Mr Thranduil Greenwood_ – made his heart beat even more frantically. He perused the document and, at the end, found the words _Paternity practically proven._ So it was true. His mother had not had a particularly vivid, drug-induced dream (Legolas had to admit that for a moment he had actually been hoping for that). He was Mr Greenwood’s son. Mr Greenwood was his father.

He had suspected it, of course. How could he not, given their uncanny resemblance? But to see it like this, proven and certified, and in such an abrupt way, was disconcerting. Shocking, even. At least he now knew why Mr Greenwood had drunk so much tonight. _It must have been as much a shock to him as it is to me._

However, that did nothing to answer the million other questions that popped up in his head at an alarming rate. _Why did mum never contact Mr Greenwood? He could have helped us a million times over… Why did he not inquire after her the next day? …_ On and on it went as he sat there, alternately staring at the documents in his hands and at Mr Greenwood. His father. The question that weighed most heavily on his mind, though, was this: _Why does Mr Greenwood look at me with such anger and fear in his eyes?_

Legolas sighed, and, without thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed the little box that had also fallen out of Mr Greenwood’s pocket and opened it. And there lay the answer to his most important question, the thing that explained Mr Greenwood’s strange behaviour the last few days: it was a ring, inset with a diamond that was more sparkling than anything Legolas had ever seen in his life. And suddenly Legolas understood.

He understood that Mr Greenwood had wanted to propose to Calandiel, maybe even on the same day that he had arrived here. He understood that Mr Greenwood had postponed this plan upon seeing his mother’s letter for fear that Calandiel would reject him should she know he had a child. And he also understood that he had to leave immediately, otherwise his presence would destroy Mr Greenwood’s and Calandiel’s chance at happiness.

Resolutely, Legolas closed the box, folded the documents and placed everything in Mr Greenwood’s hand. The man slept so deeply that he didn’t notice anything. Then he stood up and raced up to his rooms to pack his belongings in his dilapidated rucksack. He decided to keep the clothes the Peredhels had gifted him with, as well as the new phone and its charger. When everything was safely stored away in his now bulging bag, he came back down to the ground floor. He checked once more on Mr Greenwood, who still sleeping soundly. Legolas smiled wistfully at the sight. After all these years of dreaming about a father who would come and take him and his mother away to a wonderful place, he had actually found his father, but he also had to leave him again.

Legolas quickly turned away before his resolution could falter, hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder and walked towards the door. He passed the kitchen and glanced in. Oh dear, he had forgotten about the mess Mr Greenwood had made in there: the wine on the floor, the shards of glass strewn everywhere… No, he couldn’t leave the kitchen like this…

He set down his rucksack by the door, grabbed a broom and a dustpan and proceeded to clear up the shards. Then he took a rag and mopped up the floor as best as he could, checking on Mr Greenwood regularly as he did so. While he worked, phrases from his mother’s letter popped up in his mind, as well as the image of Mr Greenwood – his father – lying on the couch or staring at him angrily. Legolas shook his head unwillingly just as he heard a key being turned in the lock. He sighed. Calandiel and Tauriel must be home from their dinner with Celebrían and Arwen. His chances at being able to leave to ensure the family’s happiness had now lessened considerably.

***

Calandiel exchanged a puzzled look with her daughter as she heard movement from the kitchen. “Perhaps Legolas is still awake?” Tauriel mouthed, shrugging.

“Maybe.” They walked down the hallway and stopped at the open kitchen door. Legolas was there, kneeling on the floor and mopping up a red substance. Calandiel gasped in shock, thinking it was blood, but even as the sound left her mouth she identified the substance as red wine instead.

“Hello, Legolas. What happened?” she asked worriedly.

“Hello, Calandiel, Tauriel.” Legolas smiled up at them, but Calandiel thought the smile seemed forced somehow. Not like his usual cheerful self. “How was your dinner?”

“It was good, but what happened?” Tauriel asked again.

“It’s Mr Greenwood,” the boy said. Calandiel stiffened. She knew where this was going… “He has drunk… too much.” Legolas gestured at the four empty bottles in the sink, and Calandiel’s eyes widened. The last time he had drunk so much, he had fallen into a coma.

“Is he alright?! Where is he?!” she asked frantically, her heart beating wildly. She swore to herself that she would banish all wine from this house the next day.

“Don’t worry, he’s alright now,” Legolas said in a soothing voice that reminded her of Elrond when he was talking to a patient. “He puked a few times, and then I got him to lie down. He’s asleep in the living room.” Calandiel opened her mouth to say that it could be dangerous for a drunk to be asleep as they could very well suffocate if they fell asleep in the wrong position. However, the boy beat her to it, sounding once again much like Elrond. “He is safe, I assure you. I have experience with this. Enough of the alcohol has left his system, and I’m checking on him every few minutes to make sure he stays in the recovery position. Also, I wrapped him in two blankets to keep him warm…”

Calandiel was impressed. The boy had done everything Elrond had told her to do should she find Thranduil in such a state ever again. And he had done that without any help, which was even more impressive considering that Thranduil, already stubborn by nature, was even more difficult to handle when drunk.

“Thank you!” Calandiel whispered, quite overcome with emotion, and wrapped a surprised Legolas in a hug, before rushing into the living room. There he was, her stubborn, intimidating, arrogant boyfriend who also had a gentle and vulnerable side to him that few ever saw. She smiled in relief and kissed his cheek. She returned to the kitchen when she heard Tauriel bid Legolas a good night and noticed the boy’s rucksack standing by the door. She frowned.

“Are you leaving?” she asked from the doorway as Legolas finished mopping up the wine on the floor. She saw the young man’s shoulders slump at the question.

“Yes,” he said finally as he wrung out the rag over the sink. “I… found some things out tonight, and I feel it’s not right for me to stay here…” Calandiel opened her mouth to protest, but Legolas continued stubbornly. “It’s not that I don’t like being here – I love it, actually! – but… Mr Greenwood doesn’t want me here. I understand that – after all, I’m a complete stranger…”

“Legolas, I’m sure we can find a solution. You don’t have to leave,” Calandiel said, moved by his words, her brain already concocting up arguments to make Thranduil let the boy stay. She sensed that it would be very beneficial to everyone involved if he stayed.

The young man smiled sadly as he walked past her and grabbed his rucksack. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Calandiel. I shall not forget it.” He fetched his sneakers and put them on.

“Where will you stay tonight?” she asked desperately. Maybe if she could convince him to stay another night…

“I’ll text the twins. I’m sure they’re still awake.”

Calandiel quickly suppressed a sigh of relief and just nodded. The Peredhels wouldn’t let him go that easily, she was sure of that, but she’d phone Celebrían anyway when Legolas was gone. Just in case.

“Keep Mr Greenwood warm and make sure he stays in that position. Then he’ll have nothing worse than a pounding headache in the morning,” Legolas said, and, once again, Calandiel found herself impressed by the boy’s knowledge. “Oh, and please don’t tell him I was with him tonight. He thought I was Glorfindel, and… I’d like to keep it that way.”

Even though the request was strange and it went against her heart not to tell Thranduil about everything that had happened, she nodded for she also sensed that it was really important for the boy. “I promise.”

Legolas smiled. “Thank you.”

They shook hands, and the young man handed back the key for the front door that Tauriel had given him. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Legolas.” Calandiel waited until she was sure that Legolas was well out of earshot before she called Celebrían, who was also still awake as they had only just come home from their dinner. She told her everything – after all, she had only promised not to tell Thranduil.

Celebrían’s words reassured her. “Don’t worry. He can stay with us no matter what, and he will stay, I’ll make sure of it, until Thran is ready to deal with him.”


End file.
